Immortal History Lessons
by GallyOmallyKattalyKaru
Summary: An unassuming, mundane historian finds her life turned upside down when a certain ancient Immortal blunders into it. M - rating for later chapters.
1. We Meet

Author's Note: This is a story co-authored, by me and my fellow writing buddy Majkia. We both really love the Highlander series and we decided to write a story together, which we have dubbed jokingly in our minds 'Methos Season 1'. Julian, Adele and Sydney are written by Majkia, I write Duncan, Methos and Ressa. We hope you enjoy this first chapter.

Cast: Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod

Methos/Adam Pierson

Varessia Julietta Amaraldi a.k.a. Ressa, Portugese Immortal who is a friend of Duncan and Methos and who is recovering from the death of a friend.

Adele Blakesely - witch, in more ways than one, and friend of Ressa and Julian

Julian Vaurien - mage, troublemaker, newly married and worried about it.

Sydney Watson - mundane human, assistant professor of history at NYU

* * *

The small international group arrived at an English style establishment on Washington Square in Manhattan that proclaimed itself as the Dark Horse Pub.

"Now, this is more like it." Methos said, rubbing his hands together. "A good draft beer is just what you need, Ressa."

The Portuguese immortal just chuckled at his enthusiasm, dressed in one of her old black dresses, looking delicious on Duncan's arm.

Adele wore her usual, jeans and a nothing of a top along with high heels. Her hair swung free behind her. She was on Methos' arm but Julian didn't look too happy about it. Adele hurried them inside, already curious and looking around at the crowd. A bit of magic, and suddenly there was a table they could nab.

Julian, looking, and feeling, like a fifth-wheel, a rather odd experience for him, followed rather glumly along, worrying about what his newly minted wife was up to and how he'd pay for this...

Duncan, being the gentlemen he was, held out a seat for Adele after he saw Ressa seated. Taking a seat next to his friend as Methos walked to the head of the table.

"All right, order up. I'll pay for the first round, MacLeod and Jules get the rest." Methos offered.

"Oh gee thanks," Julian muttered taking the corner seat. Adele sat next to him and patted him on the head. "You're an old married guy now, Julian, get used to it!" she said with a laugh, as she gave a waiter her best smile to get some service.

"Well, hello." Methos said to the young man. "We'll need a single malt whiskey, a glass of your best red wine, a nice dark ale on tap for me, Glenlivet scotch for this one, and..." He trailed off on the last order and looked at Adele. "Well this young lady's going to have to order for herself actually."

"Hmm," Adele said as she gave it some thought. "Cuervo Platino with a Dos Equis chaser," Adele ordered. "Oh and bring the blond here the bottle of Glenlivet."

They made a rather remarkable group. Julian, a blond-headed cute fellow with a pout that could kill, Adele, heavy dark hair hanging down her back, and her clothes showing all her ample curves. Her blue eyes flashed as she laughed with Duncan and winked at Methos. Ressa being the youngest of the immortals with dark hair, sun kissed skin and a honey laugh, Duncan with his ruggedly handsome hair and long hair pulled back in a ponytail. And Methos, as ever the oldest at the table, but most definitely the most juvenile of the bunch with his high cheekbones, roman nose and mischievous green eyes.

"Did these guys ever tell you, Ressa, how we all first met?" Julian asked. When Ressa shook her head 'no' he explained, "Well, see, I was having this little party. I think it was for New Years, or maybe Bastille Day. This was in Paris. So here we were, minding our own business..."

Adele interrupted, "Yeah, right. Causing such a ruckus he had to magic the neighbors into oblivion so they wouldn't call the gendarmes," Adele added with a snort. "What a hundred people?"

"Oh, surely not that many," Julian protested.

"I still don't know how you kept all those people from talking afterwards," Methos said thoughtfully.

Duncan finished off his drink. "Adam and I were on our way back from the pub when we got attacked by another immortal somewhere between the barge and Julian's place."

"I still can't believe we lived that close by one another and had never run into each other before that night," Julian said laughing. "I always wondered what all the lighting and blown fuses and unscheduled fireworks was all about. And that old black barge sitting there."

"Anyway," Adele continued, "we hear screaming sirens coming toward Julian's and he's convinced they're gonna bust us."

"So this one over here," Methos said, jerking his thumb at Duncan. "Thinks it's a good idea to join the obnoxious noise coming from the building near by and ends up sending us into Harry Potter hell."

"I honestly thought they'd drugged the drinks they were handing out." Duncan admitted.

"Oh yeah," Julian said, grinning. "That was the night we were competing to see who could magic up the most weird illusion. I think the prize was Adele."

Adele punched his arm. "I," she said with dignity, "won."

"Yeah, she created a... I don't even know what to call it," Julian laughed. "Chimera does not even come close. It was sort of a rabid raccoon with bunny ears and it began attacking the guests."

"I remember." Methos grumbled.

"Why am I never in town with these things happen?" Ressa complained.

"We'll make sure to call you next time," Duncan said with a grin.

"Then there was the David competition, which I believe you got volunteered for MacLeod." Methos added cheekily.

The Highlander glared daggers at the ancient.

"Don't be like that," Adele chided Duncan. "You have a terrific ass. Not to mention everything else," she added with a whistle at the end. "He won Ressa."

"I'm not surprised." Ressa said with a grin, which only made Duncan turn redder.

"Well, while you're all chatting, I'm going to get another drink." Methos said as he stood from the table with an empty glass and a need to get away from overly agitated Highlanders.

As Methos/Adam approached the bar there was a noisy and very drunken guy there, who was attempting to tell a joke mostly with his hands, which was probably a good thing since his words were so slurred no one could make them out anyway. Just as Methos reached the bar the drunk's hands connected with a briefcase apparently belonging to a woman who was perched on the next stool. The briefcase went flying and the woman cursed roundly, diving to the floor to begin gathering up papers and books that had spilled out.

"Oh, shit," she muttered. To make matters worse the woman's glasses had gone flying too. "Jeez," she huffed gathering papers up as quick as she could.

Methos instinctively crouched down next to her and grabbed a handful of papers, his scooped up the glasses as well but held those under the papers. "Need a bit of help?" He asked cheerfully, holding out the papers but not the glasses.

She looked up at him, her hair falling out of its restraints and over her face. "Thanks. Exam papers," she explained as she scooped more up. A book lying near him, spine up, read A Concise History of Medieval Europe.

She was rather beautiful, with or without the glasses. Long blond hair and clear blue eyes with an interesting spark of defiant intelligence behind them. An agitated set to her full mouth as she tried to get herself together which Methos found attractive in an odd way.

She blew at her hair to get it out of her eyes. "Are you going to help or gawk?" she asked.

Methos raised a brow. "I'm not gawking, I'm just trying to figure out why you're squinting at me. I can't be that repulsive, I checked this morning, same face."

"My glasses seem to have gone missing," she explained crawling around a bit looking for them, unwittingly giving him a rather nice view. "Oh, my God, I do not want to even guess what else is on this floor," she added.

"Then, allow me..." Methos said, unfolding her glasses and setting them on her nose. "To bring some light to the situation." He said, smiling as he pushed them up her nose to sit right. "Adam Pierson."

"Thank you, much better." She shoved the exams into her briefcase and then said, "Sydney Watson. I'd offer to shake hands but considering where my hands have just been, I don't think it wise."

Methos shrugged, offering his hand. "We can share, seeing as my hands have been the same place."

She grinned and shook his hand. "Thanks for the help. I'd have a lot of angry students if I told them their exam papers were lost in a pub. Not very good for my reputation either."

"I'm going to take a guess, I'm not always right, but that's rare. Literature teacher?" Methos asked teasingly.

"Hardly. World History," she replied. "Obviously my speciality is not the whole of World History, but I'm stuck with Freshman History this semester. A fate worse than... well, a lot of things."

"Ah, see? You are the exception. But frankly, this did throw me off." Methos said, holding up her copy of A Concise History of Medieval History. "Contrary to the title it is not at all concise or entertaining. I fear for the wakefulness of your class if this is what they're learning."

"Yes, well, I did not select the text. But it is only one text; there are others. Are you a historian?"

Methos tried to cover up choking on his beer by chuckling. "Not exactly. Would you like to join my friends and me for a drink. Our number is growing at such an alarming rate I'd feel left out if I didn't bring someone back with me."

Sydney glanced at the table. Adele was waving her over. "Oh, why not." She followed Methos over and inductions were made all round, the conversation taking a much tamer route when Methos introduced Sydney as a historian and without having to say it, human.

"So, Ressa, some homecoming week, eh?" Julian asked her. "Let's you and me ignore the mob and get drunk together."

Ressa blew out a sigh. "Sounds like a plan, Julian." She looked at her empty wine glass. "I'm going to need something stronger."

Julian poured her some Glenlivet.

"So, Sydney." Methos said, setting down his empty glass. "Why is a highly respectable history teacher grading exams in a pub?"

"Who dared to say I was respectable?" Sydney demanded to know.

Methos bit the inside of his cheek as he smiled. "No one said you had to be."

"Well, I'm not," Sydney explained. "And I came to meet a friend right after class. He didn't turn up, the bastard. He's toast when I find him, I swear. And are you respectable?'

Methos was more interested by the minute. "Not at all. And this friend, he wouldn't happen to be an obstacle to a unrespectable guy like me, would he?"

She looked him up and down. "I'll let you know when I figure it out," she replied with a grin. "You a local? Or just slumming. That accent isn't New York."

"Ooo, she's sharp!" He said. "I have a flat in Paris, but right now I'm crashing with Boy Scout here," his eyes moved to Duncan,"While we try to cheer up the Queen of Swords over there." He pointed to Ressa who was in the middle of getting pissed with Julian.

"Oh, you two are doing a fabulous job of that, then. Boy scout is really helpful for that."

Methos nodded. "Yes, but you see this is just the tenderizing stage of my great master plan." He said, moving in closer to Sydney as he relaid his covert operation. "First we get Ressa over there good and drunk, make her forget all her little troubles, maybe fix her up with a decent man...believe me, the woman can take care of herself in that department," He added quickly at the look he was getting. "Then tomorrow when she's too hung over to take a good swing at us, we start taking care of the problem. So see? A work of genius."

"I seem to get lost in this glorious plan somewhere between getting her hung over and taking care of the problem. Which problem might that be again?" she asked.

"Uhm...you see, she's lost some close friends recently." Methos steered carefully, looking at Ressa with softer eyes for a moment before looking away. "They died and she couldn't do anything to save them. She blames herself, silly girl."

"And you're fixing the problem by getting her drunk. It makes perfect sense given it's a male-centric solution. Or does this involve throwing her into the blond guy's arms? Because very soon I'm expecting the both of them to break out into a chorus of 'Danny Boy.'"

"Look, take it from some one with a lot of experience. It's a lot easier to numb the pain first, deal with it later." Methos's voice dropped and the his eyes were suddenly old and hard. "Besides...the blond is too much in fear for his family jewels at the moment to even lay a finger on Ressa," he quipped and the hardness passed, guarded now but not gone.

Syndey's eyes went to Ressa for a moment. "I'm sorry for her loss. And it's kind of you to want to help her. But really, she's going to have to do it for herself. Still, just knowing you folks are here for her should be helpful."

Methos then really looked at Sydney for the first time that night. Really looked at her and listened to what she said under the words. He wanted to tell her so much in that moment, of years and experience, possibly all of it if she had the time. But whether he wanted to tell her so she'd have hope or to make her fear the future, he didn't know. Instead his brow furrowed.

"I need another beer I think. Do you want another?" He said instead and grinned like a fool.

She watched his face for a moment then said, "Sure."

"Julian..." Ressa said a little slowly but far from sloshed to the disappointment of her two immortal kinsmen who thought it wouldn't take much to achieve their goal. "We still need something stronger." She said, eyeing the empty scotch bottle. "You still look too pretty for your own good." She complained.

"Be happy he isn't pouting," Adele advised mournfully. "I've been in love with him since I was 3."

"Stronger," Julian nodded to Ressa. "Surely there's something stronger than bloody scotch."

"Try Everclear," Methos said helpfully.

"Good idea!" Julian said gratefully, and began waving at the waitress, who, seeing how cute he was hurried right over.

Adele looked glumly at Ressa. "It's bad when the guy is prettier than his two dates."

"I have some eyehadow, maybe we can give him some dark circles under his eyes." Ressa said.

There was a little too much thought going into this topic.

Duncan sighed and looked at Sydney. "And you're not in on this because?"

Sydney grinned. "Because I know when I'm bested. And, I really should be getting home. I've got an early class in the morning."

Methos attention snapped to her at that point. "Do you live far?"

"Only a few blocks from here. It is quite safe," Sydney replied, making sure her briefcase was safely latched.

"Obviously you don't remember where you live," Methos said with disbelief as he stood and offered his arm. "A lady and a scholar needs someone to protect them from the criminal capital of the world."

Sydney laughed then said, "Your friends?"

"Friends, what friends," Julian muttered. "Take him away. Please! We'll be fine, won't we ladies," Julian added, pouring Everclear for both Adele and Ressa.

Methos gave Duncan a long suffering look. "Save me a seat, and don't let them fall under the table," he said before escorting Sydney out of the pub.

* * *

Author's Note: Reviews are lovely and make us and the old man happy.

* * *


	2. Walk On The Wild Side

Author's Note: We're just gonna let these two talk for us. Have fun.

* * *

It being New York, Manhattan, the Village, there were still a lot of people out on Washington Square on a moonlit warm evening. The Square had a happy feel to it, as if the world were in a good mood and determined to stay that way.

Sydney maneuvered through the door as Adam held it for her, and brushed past several hopeful patrons intent on joining the throng inside the pub. Once they were clear of the crowd and walking was a bit less treacherous she turned to look up at Methos. "Quite some friends you've got there. I'll check in the morning to see if the Pub is still in one piece."

"You don't know the half of it." Methos chuckled, sticking both hands in his pockets, offering her an elbow to tuck a cold hand in. "But, not to worry. MacLeod can handle the rabble, I offered a lady an escort."

"I confess to being unused to gentlemen. I teach."

"You know, there was a day when I remembered great retribution for not honoring your teacher. Now you can't even raise your voice without being chastised." Methos shook his head. "Society goes backwards in the wrong places sometimes."

He turned to look at Sydney expectantly. "So are you going to take it or not, because I look bloody ridiculous holding my arm out like this." He said pointedly, flapping his crooked elbow like a chicken wing.

"If needs must," she replied, slipping her arm through his. "That way," she added with a nod of her head. "Across past the fountain and take the corner by the Starbucks." She paused then added, "Your friend, Ressa? She'll be all right? She looks like someone who feels deeply. Of course, that's pure conjecture on my part, but, from a look or two I saw.."

"She's lost before." Methos said gently as they started walking. "Doesn't make it any easier, but she has us and Julian's brood to make sure it's not any harder. At least that's what we hope. But it's not your problem so you shouldn't worry about it." He said with a casual shrug.

"True. What should I worry about then? You? You seem to like convoluted plots and mysterious complications. You'd have been happier living in the Renaissance. Now those folks knew how to plot."

Methos smiled. "That was...an interesting time. And a thankful modernization of water channeling." He sighed happily. "We thank that period for what we now call the hot tub."

She laughed. "My interest is far more.. visceral. I fell in love with pictures of men in tights when I was 10. My father was horrified when I announced my greatest desire was to be a historian. He'd so badly wanted me to be an architect. Of course he also wanted a son, but was stuck with me."

"Silly man. It sounds like you were interested in architecture, just the human kind. A man in tights can be a great piece of art...and then it can also be a horrible abomination to the gentle eye. But all in all, still architecture. And buildings are boring after a while, humans aren't." He said, taking her for a turn around the fountain instead of past it.

"Yes, which is what I love about history. Besides the men in tights." She craned her neck a bit to adjudge Methos's architecture. "Hmm."

Methos looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "And where, might I ask, would you place me? I'd like to think I'm a bit more outlandish then the Renaissance. I've got better architecture."

"Do you indeed! And an ego too, I see. Hmmm. Where else might you fit in. Perhaps the Barbary Coast. A privateer, enjoying his shore leave in Casablanca or Marrakesh. Secretly working for the French."

Methos pulled a face. "See, now I'm picturing myself as Errol Flynn in badly researched costumes. And syphilis or being hanged to death are not my two favorite options of ending such a grand life of treachery."

"Ah, well, yes, there is that. But then syphilis was rather the scourge of all grand heroes in the day, I'm afraid. And what period of history and what brand of treachery is your favorite, since you prefer not to be Errol Flynn."

"I don't know, the first? I am called Adam after all, why not go for the first traitor in all of recorded history, or fiction depending on the way you look at it I suppose. Adam displayed one shred of self thought and screwed the whole world for a chance at eternal bliss on earth. Thankfully he made the world a lot more interesting for the rest of us." Methos shrugged. "Besides, I've done the tights before. They make your legs look fantastic but they itch. And if I was Adam, no clothes is a lot easier to maintain."

"True, except I always wondered how they pinned the grape leaves over Adam's dangly bits."

"I don't know, maybe they were jealous."

"The dangly bits or the grape leaves?"

Methos seem to think about that. "Both. After all they were personally crafted by God, the man most definitely had a bigger ego then me."

Sydney finally lost it and laughed. "Yes, you're probably right there. But to have your girlfriend wooed away by a snake, well, that must have hurt. I don't recall snakes having much in the way of dangly bits at all."

"Ah, but that could be considered an experimental fling. Snakes are rather dexterous with their tongues but she shared the the apple with Adam, so she had some reason for going back to him to share all the hells of life with." Methos countered.

"Yes, well, you know us women are so fickle. Never know when we have a good thing. And there's the whole cultural imperative to change the guy. Reform him. We're such suckers for that."

"I've changed countless times, so if you ever feel the need to exercise your cultural instincts I'm your man." He said, smiling as he took her on their third circuit of the fountain without her noticing.

"Alas, I'm a very defective woman. I apparently was in another line when they were handing out the reform genes. Perhaps I was getting extra smartass genes at the time."

"Now you're just being difficult," He complained. "Most men like to be reformed, it tells them what kind of man their woman want them to be. How are we supposed to act if you don't tell us? Because I'm sorry to inform you, but we men have been ruled by you woman too long to know what to do with ourselves without being told."

"Now you tell me. No wonder my love life sucks."

Methos laughed. "Now you know better. So while I'll being generous, perhaps you'd like to return the favor and let me in on the secret of how to keep woman from ripping my head off the moment they meet me. It's been a nasty trend I haven't been able to break in forever and I'm starting to suspect that I smell."

"I doubt the problem is merely olfactory. Perhaps the problem is your pheromones."

"My pheromones?"

"Hmmm. Try disguising them with Brut. I'm told all the sexy women find it impossible to resist. Or so my Freshmen men tell me."

"So smelling like a old drunk is the answer to all my problems? And here I thought it was a lack of class."

"No need to thank me. I offer it as a public service. Haven't we been round the fountain before?'

Methos stopped and made a show of surveying the area with surprise. "I think you're right. I was staring to think all the buildings here just looked the same, tough act for the village. But you can't really blame a guy stalling, Sydney. If I'd walked you straight home you would of missed out on all the insightful talk of men in tights and the oral pleasures of snakes in Eden." He said reasonably.

"And I'm particularly grateful for the visuals on that, thanks so much. But you've friends waiting and I have to be up and pretend to be coherent at 9."

"I think we're evenly matched in our tasks at hand then, but..." Methos hesitated as they neared her place and came to a stop under a street light, holding her gaze. "I'm going to be in town for some time. So if you ever feel the need to walk, talk, laugh or dinner...I'd like to leave this as something to be continued...if you like."

5,000 years and he still couldn't do this part with any style.

She grinned. "I think it would be lovely, thanks." She rummaged in her briefcase and produced a card, identifying her as indeed, Sydney Watson, with NYU. "Maybe we can do lunch, if you're free one day."

Methos beamed at her and took the card, tucking it into his pocket. The cogs were already turning in his mind as he led her up to her doorstep and shifted her hand from his arm into his warm palm.

"All right, lunch. Would you like it themed or a normal lunch? Because I really still do have those tights somewhere, though I'm not quiet sure what your Brut wearing students would say to my entrance then." He offered with a cheeky grin.

She laughed. "I think we'd best not go there. You'll have heartsick men chasing you around New York."

"Right," Methos said with a serious nod. "Not the cat striped ones then."

"Smart man. And do me a personal favor and leave off the Brut."

"I promise." He said, smiling at her with her hand still in his. "Then goodnight Sydney Watson."

"Good night Adam Pierson. And thank you for making me laugh."

"My pleasure," he said, stepped down on a lower step, dropping his eyes to the hand he still had and wondering what to do with it. He wore an odd smile as he turned the hand over so it was palm up and leaned down to press his lips against it, his nose brushing the curve of her wrist as his eyes closed for the briefest moment like he was trying to store away the memory of it. Then he let her hand slip from his and smiled. "Goodnight."

She slipped her key into the door, opened it, stepped in and turned. She smiled a good night to him before the door closed between them.

Methos laughed softly and shook his head, turning back to the bar with an inerasable smile. "Be careful old man," he muttered to himself as he stuffed both hands in his pockets. "This ones sharp."

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Author's Note: Reviews make us and the Old Man happy.


	3. Meanwhile, back at the bar

Disclaimer: Duncan and Methos do not belong to us, nor do any other Highlander characters. Sydney, Ressa, Julian and Adele do. So please don't steal them.

Author's Note: Another chapter, and some Duncan and Methos chatter. Enjoy!

* * *

Julian was leaning on Ressa's shoulder, pointing out the obvious errors in technique of the men on the dance floor, the men not

Julian was leaning on Ressa's shoulder, pointing out the obvious errors in technique of the men on the dance floor, the men not dancing. Adele was in the midst of the dance floor too.

"Oh, nice one!" Julian called out, giving her a wolf whistle. She'd just decked one guy who'd missed his swing at another guy and almost hit her.

Adele, breathing hard, had her fists on her hips and glared at the chaos around her. She finally stalked off toward the table, stepping over a few bodies out cold on the floor.

"Men!" she said. "I told them there was no way in bloody hell I'd give either of them a second glance. Did that work? Nooooooooooo. They still had to start punching and kicking and then missing and hitting someone else. I swear, I'm giving them all up and I'm gonna play for the other team!"

"That's a shame, I had such high hopes." Methos said glumly as he took a seat next to Adele. "And how are the rest of the drunken children doing?" He asked a bit more gleefully, eyeing Ressa and Julian with perverse satisfaction.

Julian's head sagged against Ressa's arm.

"Mostly," Adele reported, "they've been boring as hell and I had to entertain myself."

Methos chuckled. "Jules always was a light weight. But I do remember leaving someone a bit more prone to strong drink in charge."

"And then I left Julian in charge." Duncan said as he walked in not long after Methos, looking around at the mess of people on the floor. "Obviously that was a mistake."

Julian grinned. "Ressa and I had a wonderful time. We bashed all of you."

Ressa hiccupped, and nodded.

"I think it's about time we send all the kiddies to bed, what do you think MacLeod?" Methos asked, and Duncan noticed the perky attitude the ancient immortal had at some point adopted.

"I agree."

"The question is, which one of our magical friends is sober enough to get them all back to England in one piece?" Methos wondered.

"Me of course," Adele said, frowning. "I'm perfectly sober..." she leaned into Methos to figure out which way was up.

"My/Your place." Both immortals decided at once.

--

Duncan made it to the door laden down with a drunk immortal in his arms and Adele leaning heavily on his shoulder. He heard a grunt from behind him as he fished for the keys.

"Would you hurry up, MacLeod!" Methos snapped. "He's was a lot lighter the last time I did this, but he was also conscious then." Grumbled the immortal as he tried to balance Julian in his arms bridal style.

"You do still care," Julian said, and began nuzzling Methos's neck.

"Now, MacLeod," Methos hissed under his breath. "I'm good, but I'm still human."

Duncan chuckled as he got the door open and all the motley crew inside the apartment.

"In the bedroom." Duncan said as Methos rushed in and deposited the mage on the bed before a certain pregnant woman had a reason to put a hit on him. Duncan wasn't far behind as he scooted Ressa and Adele on the overly large bed with Julian.

Both immortals stepped back and looked at the odd group cuddled up on top of the comforter.

"You know, I'm really tempted to fetch a camera." Methos said thoughtfully.

"For blackmail or your own enjoyment?" Duncan asked.

Methos shrugged. "Why can't it be both?"

Adele opened one eye. "Jealous," she commented.

Methos smiled. "Not tonight I'm not." He said, folding his arms across his chest and walking out of the room. Duncan's brow furrowed and he followed him out, leaving the snoring angels to sleep.

"So I take it your night went well." Duncan fished as Methos stretched out on the couch.

"Better then I expected," Methos admitted. "But then you seem to have had some action yourself." Methos said with a pointed look at Duncan's shirt. "And since you're standing here in one piece, I'm guessing you won."

Duncan grumbled something as he looked at his sword torn shirt. "He was young, lucky for me. Especially since I had Alanna with me. She turned out to be more interesting then us." He said with a little grin.

Alanna must have been the name of the woman Duncan had chatted up at the bar and walked home after Methos and Sydney left. And Methos was all too familiar with the look on Duncan's face now.

Methos eyes narrowed as he sat up. "Duncan MacLeod, you complete fool. You know the girl one night, not even that and you're already starry eyed. Wars were started because of idiots like you."

"You're one to talk." Duncan shot back. "For someone who lives only a few blocks away it took you an awful long time to get back."

"That, my friend, is none of your business." Methos said with a smug grin as he kicked off his shoes and stretched back out on the couch. "Now would you mind turning out the light?"

Seconds later Methos found himself in a confused pile of limbs on the floor blinking up at Duncan who was now righting the couch he'd toppled over.

"What was that for?!" Methos shouted irritably.

Duncan looked up calmly, in that way that Methos knew a childish grin was hiding just under the surface. "My bed's taken, and you are crashing my apartment. Which means you get the floor." He said as the wide grin finally broke out over his face. "Goodnight Methos." He said cheerfully as he sprawled out on the couch.

Methos growled a few well-chosen curses in a few well-chosen languages as he tore off his coat and jumbled it into something that resembled a pillow.

There were some real downsides to crashing at MacLeod's.

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Author's Note: Reviews make us happy. :D


	4. The Historian At Play

Disclaimer: I do not own Methos, Majkia does own Sydney. So no stealing if you please.

Author's Note: Another chapter by the two of us. I'd like to point out something that I neglected to in the last three chapters. Adele, Julian and Ressa are original characters developed for an online writing community. Mostly we all write our own characters and they interact in stories together, then I decided to bring in the Highlander characters and this story was born out of some of Methos and Duncan's interactions with them. Actually Majkia and I decided to introduce Methos to Julian, as they are two halves to the same cynical coin. From this point on in the story though the 'friends' as reviewers have dubbed them, don't take any more part in the Methos story strand. Lol, unsurprisingly enough they all tagged along after Duncan.

* * *

It was a fairly typical lecture hall for a large university, particularly an urban university. Large, not exactly crowded since the weather was beautiful outdoors, students littered the seats behind the curved tables on all five levels.

In the pit, one Assistant Professor of History Sydney Watson was pacing as she spoke. Her hair was half out of its erstwhile neat bun, her glasses catching the lights and sending sparks round the room as she scattershot her attention from one student to another. The class was, apparently, the High Middle Ages.

"Towns, before obtaining their freedom, were under the jurisdiction of a secular or ecclesiastical overlord. Yes, Michael, make a face. But it was true. The official appointed by the overlord to rule the town was sometimes oppressive - well, all right, mostly oppressive. Although there are certainly examples of a few good ones. Complaints of the townsmen sometimes resulted in a curtailment and definition of his powers. And it was this that began the preliminary steps toward obtaining of a charter of freedom. However, such a charter was not necessarily permanent." Her voice died off as she saw movement at one of the doorways.

Adam passed by the door to her room, glancing in as he went past, it looked like he'd been peaking into every door he came by. When he saw Sydney he stopped and leaned against the doorway and smiled at her. He was wearing the same trench and pants from last night and it looked top wise he'd only changed the color of his sweater, a white loose knit instead of the heavy black one.

He knew she'd seen him. She shook her head and got back on track. "I'm not going to read to you the entire Declaration of the Powers of the Count of Toul over the City of Toul, 1069. It's in your book. Review it and we'll talk about it at our next class. Questions?"

"I have one." Methos said as he walked further into the class room, ignoring all the puzzled looks of the students as he turned to them instead of Sydney. "Would you all mind if I stole your teacher?"

"Dude!" said one young man, doused in Brut.

"Wonderful!" Methos said, turning to take Sydney's hand and steer her out of the class. "Read, review, don't fall asleep because that's just horrible studying skills children. In the meantime, we'll be going, so have a good day."

"Uhm," Sydney managed, just turning her head as he hustled her off, "Class dismissed."

Methos directed Sydney through the maze of corridors and turns without a word. It wasn't until they ended up on the campus main lawn that he stopped and turned to her.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. But you didn't hear yourself in there." He said quickly in his own defense, hands up in front of him. "It sounded like you were torturing not only your students but yourself with that drowning. Do you even enjoy teaching that?"

"Well, not that bit specifically, obviously. But it's on the exam."

"Oh good," He said with relief which quickly melted into suspicion. "You're not going to hit me now are you?"

"Should I? It is tempting. I will if someone complains, how's that."

"Does it count if the one that smells of your least favorite perfume and a short supply of proper vocabulary complains?"

She shook her head at him. "I'd forgive you if you told him to ditch the Brut."

He smiled. "Will do, though I think that would be doing the whole world a favor." He offered his hand. "In the meantime, I was promised a lunch date, and rehearsal will be over in an hour. So we'd better hurry."

"Rehearsal?" she asked, almost running to keep up with his long strides. "Do slow down. I didn't wear my chucks today."

"An old friend is allowing us to use a rather unique luncheon spot, but I want you to meet her first. As for your feet, we only need to catch the bus there." Methos explained.

After taking the rather questionable public transportation that New York City provided, Methos had them get off at the entrance to Central Park.

"Not far from here," He said assuredly and pulled them into the modern jungle heart of the city, bouncing like an excited kid.

"Adam, are you like this all the time?" Syndey asked.

"Like what?" He asked.

"Like not ask if I might have had lunch plans and just call my class off, that like what."

"Oh." He said before stopping to look at her. "Do you have lunch plans?"

She frowned at him. "No, well, I didn't."

"Well see, and I did apologize for the thing in class. I'm not always like this, Sydney. I'm just--well, I'm excited." He admitted. "I haven't really done anything like this in a while."

She frowned harder. "Like what, exactly? Spirit someone off without a by-your-leave or ... or what?"

"No, the whole dating thing. Obviously I've forgotten some important rule, but last night you seemed to like this, like me. But if you want normal, fine, let me know. I'll take you to a fancy restaurant where you can tell me very nicely that you never want to see me again."

"Ah. And here I thought your ego was nearly the size of the first Adam's. You do keep surprising me."

Methos smiled a little. "So, what will it be? One last lunch at the Ritz..." He asked, holding out his hand. "Or come see what waits down the lane?"

"Oh, definitely see what's down the lane." She took his hand.

Methos' smile grew as he curled his fingers around hers and took her down the path. They didn't have to do much walking before the sound of swords and raised voices reached them. When they stepped out into a large clearing, the noise was revealed as a full stage set up in the middle of the park with a group of actors in costume and armed, without an audience.

"Come for the third, Laertes: you but dally. I pray you, pass with your best violence. I am afeard you make a wanton of me." One of the actors cried as he circled his opponent.

"Say you so? Come on." The other shouted back and they were clashing stage swords against one another again.

Sydney's eyes gave away her amusement. "And," she whispered to Methos," are you playing Rosencrantz or Guildenstern?"

"Funny." Methos deadpanned. "Just wait."

A few seconds into the fight, the man playing Hamlet tripped over his own feet and stumbled to the ground. Everyone rushed to help the fallen actor as a tall woman in her fifties came storming on stage.

"Chuck, I can't have you in the show this weekend if you continue to fall onto Jeremy's sword every single time! You haven't even gotten out the death line and you're already killing us!" She said, reprimanding the actor as if he were a small child. And from the look of Chuck, it was working.

Methos laughed and turned to Sydney in a low voice. "That striking young woman on stage is Helen Colter, she's been working in stage craft for most of her life as an actress and now she directs them. To the dismay of all actors involved."

"And you, Adam, have never known when to keep your mouth shut."

"I'm caught." Methos admitted, laughing as Helen made her way off the stage. "Sydney Watson, I'd like you to meet Helen Colter. Helen, this is the lovely historian I told you about."

Helen was the picture of old stage beauty, her dark hair had gone completely silver and struck up in a bun, but her green eyes were sharp and younger then most half her age. She smiled at Sydney and shook her hand. "Pleased to meet the one Adam's gone to all the trouble for."

"I'm delighted to meet you, Helen," Sydney replied smiling. "But what trouble? Surely, well, I hope no one has been put out."

"No trouble at all, Adam just likes big gestures and I was in the position to oblige him." Helen said, shooting Methos a look. "Of course, he did make me a promise in return."

Methos smiled. "I did and I have delivered." He announced pulling two tickets from his pocket. "Box seats to La Boheme, and I talked to Anton, they'll be expecting you backstage afterwards so don't let Tony drag you off."

Helen smiled at Methos in a way that made her look younger and a shadow of emotion passed over her eyes as she kissed his cheek.

"You're a doll, Adam. I'll get everyone packed up and it's all yours." Helen said before she turned and commenced shouting orders at her crew.

Sydney stood looking after Helen. "What are you up to, Adam?"

Methos sighed dramatically. "You're obviously unaware of what the word surprise means. Meaning I know something you don't and you're not allowed to pester me about it." He said. "But...since you're so persistent..."

He nodded towards the stage, and while he'd kept her attention for the moment the actors had finished dressing the stage for the play and also a picnic blanket near one of the plush settee's that had been dragged on from off stage. The cast and crew was nowhere to be seen, having had too much practice with quick set changes to be caught.

Sydney looked around, her eyes lighting up. Then she turned back to Adam. "And do I get to see you in tights too?"

"Well I do remember there being talk of not embarrassing you, so I only brought everything else. But next time I'll even wear the pointed shoes and cup if you're nice to me." He teased.

"Ah, an unfair incentive, sir. For shame. Now I shall have to be on my best behavior." She pulled a moue. "No more blasphemy."

"I don't think that's a fair trade, Miss Watson. If you behave what fun am I supposed to have?" He asked, escorting her onto the stage where he presented the settee for her seat.

She allowed him to seat her, laughing up at him.

"I do hope you're laughing with me and not at me. Because I like the view from here and it would be a shame to hurt my feelings now that you have me at your mercy." Methos said as he sat on the blanket by the settee.

She shook her head. "Not at you. I'm just.. rather overwhelmed. And, I confess, rather at a loss for words, as difficult as that is to believe."

Methos smiled. "Well, there's only one thing to do then." He said, picking up a bottle of champagne that had already been opened and poured her a glass. "We take advantage of the lovely things before us, and enjoy the weather while we can."

She took the glass he handed her and once they'd clinked glasses drank. "I'm unused to having men sit at my feet. Well, men, as opposed to Freshmen, if you take my meaning."

"That's a pity. You know they used to shower devote worship on the vestal virgins of Rome, the temple high priestesses. Consider this my upholding of a time honored tradition." Methos said casually, holding up a plate. "Sandwich?"

"Thank you," she said, taking it. "As adorable as the analogy is, I'm afraid it fails in one crucial detail. Well, two, actually," she added thoughtfully as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"You're not Roman?" He asked in surprise.

"Good point. Three then," she replied laughing.

"All right. Still, three points that do not negate my metaphor and will not stop me. So we shall allow the worship to continue and in return, you will answer a few questions." Methos said as he put a bundle of grapes on her plate.

"I think you should feed them to me if you expect answers," she replied.

Methos bowed his head to hide the smile on his face. When he looked up at her it had become a smirk.

"All right." He said and moved to sit beside her on the settee. Moving the plate from her hands to his lap, he plucked a grape from the bundle and held it to her lips.

She opened her lips and took the grape.

Methos watched it disappear into her mouth and had to shake himself before plucking another one.

"Question number one, what did you want to be before you became a historian?"

She eyed him as she chewed the grape. She swallowed then said, "An astronomer."

He pushed another one against her lips.

"Do you ever feel the need to experiment?" He asked, this time accompanied by a sly grin.

She chewed again, her eyes on him. After she swallowed she said, "With regard to certain things, I do."

"Now that's cheating." Methos complained.

"How so?" she asked, her lips twitching.

Methos opened his mouth, then realizing he'd have to come out and say what he meant in literal terms finally let out a frustrated sigh and just gave her another grape.

"What's your example of a perfect day?" He asked.

She ate her grape as she considered the question. "A day with no tears."

He frowned, and withheld the grape this time. "Are you getting tired of eating grapes?'

"That depends what other options you give me."

He chuckled before presenting another grape. "One more then."

"Go for it," she said as she took the grape.

He held her gaze this time when he asked.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Only if I get to kiss you back."

"Deal." He said quietly and let his thumb brush over her bottom lip. Bracing himself on the settee he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers, his eyes open to test her reaction.

Her eyes closed and her bottom lip trembled a bit then she stretched toward him, kissing him hesitantly at first, as if she were doing her own testing.

Methos took in a sharp breath and finally covered her mouth with his as his eyes closed. Fingertips stroking her cheek as he just savored the feel of her lips and the hairs breath of space between their bodies.

She reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck pulling him closer yet.

He let himself go then, deepening the kiss, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. His tongue played across her bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Her breathing changed, getting more ragged and she opened her lips for him her own tongue meeting his. Then suddenly she was pushing on his chest and breaking the kiss. "Wait," she said, her voice rough and her breathing still ragged.

Methos let himself be pushed away and nodded. "Right, okay. Too fast."

She took a couple of deep breaths then said, "Well, we are on stage. I suddenly wondered if we had an audience."

Methos laughed, his voice thick from the kiss. "Right...that is a good reason to stop, isn't it? Unless you're an exhibitionist, that is."

"Yes, well, I'm not," she said, trying to do something with her hair that had now gotten entirely out of control of the pins that were supposed to be holding it up. "It was, however, a very nice kiss."

Methos smiled and moved her hands out of the way so he could fix the damage he'd inflicted to her hair. "Ditto."

She sat still as he arranged her hair, watching him. "You're a puzzle," she finally said.

Methos raised an eyebrow. "Is that good or bad?"

"I'm trying to decide. Have you any guidance for me?"

He smiled, pushing the last pin back in place. "I've been a good guy for a long time. And I've spent a long time redeeming the wrongs I have done. You can also find my name in the public records to make sure I'm not a serial killer."

"Well, that's a relief to know. You'll find I've been arrested twice, should you look, so I've hardly any room to claim moral superiority."

"I think I can overlook it."

"Good. You're most kind. It's been lovely, Adam. Despite my sudden fear of Brut drenched pimply teens watching us."

"We can always do it again, maybe dinner this time?" Methos asked hopefully.

"Yes. I'd like that, Adam." Her voice was warm and there was no doubt she meant it.

He smiled and flicked her nose.

"I'll call you." He said. "But if you don't go now you're going to help me clean all this up, and that goes against my masterful plan."

She laughed. "I'd love to help. Really. But I think perhaps I'd best get back and see if I still have a job." She let him pull her upright and then she smiled. She kissed his cheek quickly and hurried off.

* * *

Author's Note: We love, love, love reviews.


	5. Dinner, No Movie

Disclaimer:I do not own Methos, Majkia does own Sydney.

Author's Note: Majkia hopes that you enjoy her plucky historian, and I say..."Candygram." X3 Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

* * *

It was near dusk when Adam Pierson appeared on the doorstep of Sydney Watson's apartment, dressed in slacks and a wine red dress shirt under his ever-present trench coat. Methos hadn't been this nervous in at least twelve years; before that it had been centuries. But he wasn't going to do much about it standing in the cold.

So checking to make sure his hair hadn't gone and done something incredibly inconvenient on the drive over and that his gift had not expired since he'd purchased it, Methos rang the doorbell and held his breath.

Sydney, meanwhile, had promised herself to get home early and actually have time to get ready and clean up her apartment. Alas, not to be. Her evening class had run late and she'd had two students who wanted to chat and so she arrived home only a half hour before Adam was due. She grabbed up exam books and threw them all in a pile onto one of the chairs, closed up text books and tossed them onto the same chair, picked up a couple of empty soda cans and tossed them in the trash then raced to the bathroom to shower and change.

She'd dressed, makeuped and even picked out the little jewelry she'd wear (drop filigree earrings) but her hair was being especially uncooperative and she was cursing it as her cell phone rang. She checked the caller-ID and it was an especially nice student so she answered it, just as the doorbell rang. She cursed and looked out the window to see Adam standing on the stoop.

Still speaking to the student she opened the apartment door and walked the few feet to the main door and swung it open giving Adam what she hoped was a dazzling smile. She motioned to the phone to her ear, and indicated he should follow her and she led him, barefoot, into her apartment.

Methos grinned and followed her in, taking in an eyeful of the woman as she walked away from him and sighed.

"Yes!" Sydney was saying into the phone. "Oh I'm so delighted for you! I told you, didn't I," Sydney replied laughing. "I would be delighted to come but really... Yes, all right. I will. Thank you, Mrs Nuygen. I'll do that!"

He found a discarded pair of her glasses and strolled up to her with them perched on his nose, seeming deeply captivated by one of her textbooks.

She folded up her phone and regarded him. "Oh, they look better on you than me. Anything interesting there?" she asked, peeking over his arm to see what text he had open.

"I'm looking for the author's address, or hopefully his obituary." Methos said casually.

"Wretch," she said. "I'll be ready in a minute if I can find my shoes," she said as she wandered around searching the floor. I swear I brought them out of the bedroom. God. One of these days I'm going to get organized."

Methos chuckled, lifting up a discarded blanket on the floor to look. "What do they look like?"

"Medieval weapons of torture," she called out from the bathroom where she was still fighting with her hair.

Methos swung into the bathroom by way of the doorframe. A single sharp pointed shoe dangling from his finger. "This device perhaps?"

"Should I ask to see a copy of your discharge papers?" she asked. "But yes, that's one of them. Any idea where the second might be?"

"It seems to be eluding me, saucy little thing." Methos sighed. "But I'm an excellent seducer." He said before disappearing again.

"I'll just bet you are," she muttered to herself as she finally womanhandled her hair into submission.

She walked out of the bathroom in time to see Methos on hands and knees looking under the couch. "Is it fighting back?" she asked

"Well you didn't tell me it was this stubborn." Methos mumbled against the couch as he finally reached the strap and pulled it out. "Ah, there we go." He said with relief as he presented the second shoe to her, then changed his mind and took a knee.

"May I?" He asked, holding the shoe for her slip into.

"Thank you, gallant knight," she replied lifting her foot and sliding it into the shoe. "And imagine, that! It fits!"

"You look gorgeous tonight, have I mentioned it yet?" He asked softly as he stood, touching one of the loose strands of her hair.

"No, you hadn't. Thank you. You've lost your sweater. I might not have recognized you had I seen you on the street," she said with a grin. "But I think the change looks very nice indeed."

"Merci beaucoup, belle dame." He said with fluent flair and then pulled a carefully preserved lilac from his coat. "For you."

She took it carefully from his hand. "Not exactly a common flower to bring on a date. How did you know?" she asked, taking in its heady scent.

"My intuitive nature perhaps, or the fact that it suits you. Or...it could be the fact that I asked a few questions around campus so I could make the best impression tonight."

She groaned. "Now I'll be hit with a zillion questions in the morning. And Zelda will be hunting you down for a date. Zelda is the departmental secretary. Blue hair, punk dresses?"

Methos smiled. "Ah, yes. I remember her. She seemed rather upset that I was taking you out on a date. Which by the way..." He said, checking his watch. "We should get on with if we want to make it for our reservation."

"Yes. I'll grab my shawl," she said and then looked at the lilac in her hand. "And put this in water. Only take a second," she said and hurried into the kitchen returning with it in a vase. She set it on the windowsill. "There. Ready," she said smiling at him. "Oh, Zelda tells me I'm far too conservative. She wanted to dye my hair pink," she explained as he was leading her out toward the street. "I'm not very big on pink."

"Oh, I don't know." Methos said, studying her hair. "It could be...No, you're right, pink's a bad idea."

They stopped at a fine black T-bird and Methos opened the passenger door. "After you."

She slipped into the sleek car. "Oh this is marvelous," she said as she ran her hand along the leather of the seat.

"I'll pass the compliment on to MacLeod." He said as the engine roared into life. "If he ever realizes it's missing."

"Brat," she said, pressing her lips firmly together.

Methos just grinned as he screeched the car away from the curb.

--

'One if by Land, Two if by Sea' didn't look anything like four star from the outside, in fact it looked like an old refurbished barn. But Methos still walked her into the place as if it were the Ritz, and when they stepped inside it was easy to see why the front was rather deceptive.

The sound of piano music was drifting from the upper levels, and from the timber of the notes it wasn't a recording. The lights had been turned down to add a romantic glow that was heightened by the wash of candles that glittered from every small table. Methos simply gave his last name and they were escorted to the main room where the walls varied between lush wallpaper and bare red brick.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, entranced by the combination of romantic and gritty.

"I used to live in New York, a long time ago. This place used to be a carriage house before it was a restaurant, I just noticed when the change happened." He said with a little shrug and a smile.

"Where do you live now?" she asked. "Oh. Wait. I promised myself I wouldn't subject you to a lot of nosy questions. I'm sorry."

Methos folded his hands on the table. "You know I was wondering about that. You've shown a great amount of restraint for someone in your field of work." There was a note of teasing in his voice as well as admiration. "And to answer your question, I live here. Until I have a reason to move on, then I always have a flat in Paris at my disposal."

"A flat in Paris and you're here in New York," she shook her head, trying to imagine it. "I've been to Paris. Once. It was rainy and cold and I didn't care," she confessed.

"What did you do that day?" He asked, watching her curiously from across the table.

She leant on her elbows and her expression turned contemplative. "I walked. Along the quais, watching the people who passed. Trying to imagine.." She blushed. "I should have gone to the Louvre or seen other sights I suppose, but I enjoy watching people."

"The Louvre's a one time wonder, but I want to know what you imagined. What did you think about when you were watching those people?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I just like to imagine what someone might be like when I look at their faces or their body language. He just came from seeing his lover, she's lonely. Silly things, I'm afraid. Especially silly now that I'm telling you them."

Methos smiled. "What's so silly about it? What do you think I was doing when I first saw you?" He asked.

"Oh, you didn't automatically think, 'what a klutz?'"

"No, that was my second thought." He teased.

"What was your first?" she asked with a somewhat worried frown. "Typical New York broad?"

"Now why would you say that?" He asked. "So far I've gotten to know a beautiful, intelligent, witty woman that I haven't ever met a match to. And my first thought was, I wonder what she's like?" He said softly and took one of her hands off the table to study with his fingers. "And I had to find out, so I picked up your glasses and used them as an excuse to touch you, I taunted your books so I could see how much your temper might burn, and I'm glad that I did."

She laughed throatily at his touch. "Well, I'm glad my temper stayed under control then." She paused then added, "Your accent intrigued me. And your face. You've seen a lot."

"Did I also mention you're very perceptive?" He asked, his thumb making small circles on her inner wrist.

"And," she said, after a moment when she'd gone still, dragging her attention away from what he was doing to her heart rate and blood pressure, "you have intriguing friends."

"I've been all over the world, I pick up a lot of 'intriguing' friends. What you saw at that table are all I've managed to keep, except for Joe of course. But he's still trying to get his paperwork in order to get here." Methos said with a private, mischievous grin.

"Joe?" she asked.

Methos let go of her hand.

"Joe Dawson, devoted friend and on the regular occasion a significant pain in the arse." Methos said warmly. "We worked together for a secret organization some time ago." He said this part dismissively, as if everyone had worked with secret organizations at least once in their life. "But now that that's over he wants to move back to America and I can't exactly stop him."

"Do you want to stop him?"

Methos chuckled. "No, I think this place needs Joe back. I don't think Paris really appreciated his particular talents. Besides, we need a good bar down here that doesn't charge you seven dollars a pint. Without Joe I'll be broke in one sitting."

"Well, I hope he manages it then," she replied, looking at the menu the waiter handed her. "What's good?"

"I'm partial to the Gnocchi, but everything is surprisingly good here." Methos said then smiled at the waiter apologetically. "No offense."

"That sounds good," Sydney said smiling up at the waiter. "I'll have the gnocchi." Once the waiter had left them she cocked her head and looked at him. "You know, I do wish you'd stop tantalizing me so."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Methos tried to say straight faced, but he started chuckling instead.

"Uh Huh. Here I am trying not to be nosy and pushy and you torture me. Entirely unfair."

Methos cocked an eyebrow. "I never said you couldn't ask me questions. Who on earth made that rule?"

"I did. I find it annoying when I get grilled, so I don't want to be annoying to you. I'd rather, frankly, you told me of your own free will."

"What would you have done if I never said anything? If I just showered you with delightful surprises and outings and never said a thing about myself, would your rule hold out then?" He asked curiously.

She toyed with her glass of wine. "Possibly. I'm rather enjoying the mystery."

"Then I'll have to aspire to that." He said, holding up his own glass. "Cheers."

"I did slip up and asked about Joe," she reminded him. "So don't push me too far."

"And I'm surprised." He admitted. "And where I live. But you still haven't asked about where I come from, if I have a job or any hobbies. You haven't even asked how old I am yet. But I haven't asked you that either."

"Good thing," she laughed. "You know, I'm not sure most of that matters. I mean, where someone is from. I'd rather know where someone is now. I mean, in the sense of who they are now. People can change, people do change. And sometimes, if we know too much, we suddenly read everything based on that, rather than on ..well, on what is going on in the here and now." She paused, and blushed. "Sorry I'm babbling. I'm not very good at dating. My ability at small talk being nearly non-existent."

Methos had to shake himself out of a trance. "No, no. I completely agree with you, not about the babbling part because I think it's attractive." He smiled. "But people do change despite their pasts." He said meaningfully and without thinking took her hand again. "They really do."

"I'm glad we agree on that issue, since I was voted Miss Way-too-Serious in high school."

Methos cocked his head sideways and studied her. "You know, I really can't see that."

She laughed. "Oh yes you can. I had my nose in a book and never went to a prom. Never went to a football or basketball game. I lived in the library."

"I take it none of the men were up to par with your standards as a teenager if they couldn't get you out of the library. I'm starting to feel very privileged now."

"And," she added leaning toward him, "you don't wear Brut."

Methos leaned forward so she could smell for herself. "That I don't. I prefer my own masculine aroma, with a little deodorant of course, there's not always much to be proud of with the male body after all."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? I've always found much to like with regard to the male body." She frowned. "Well with some of them anyway."

He took a swallow of wine. "Oh really? And how, pray tell do I rate?"

She looked him over critically. "You sure you want to know?"

"Do I get points if I admit that you're the most beautiful woman I've seen a long time?" Methos asked.

"I think I'll have to deduct points for that white lie," she said, shaking her head at him. "But then it made me smile, so perhaps only a point or two."

"Now see, pay a lady a compliment and she thinks you're lying." Methos sighed with mock exasperation. "All right, give me the hard truth."

"Hmmm, let me see your profile." When he turned his head for her she repied. "Strong chin, that's a plus. Nice eyes. All your hair, a very big plus. As for the rest of you, well, I'll have to hold off on assessments there, since you haven't put those tights on for me yet."

"There's other ways for you to see my legs." Methos said.

"Really?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course. Next time we can go to the beach." He smirked.

"Yes, very true. Although I'm not sure I should let you see me in a bikini."

"Then what's the point in going?" He asked.

She laughed. "None I suppose."

--

Their food arrived and their silliness was interrupted until the server left them with wonderfully smelling steamy plates. "Nor will anyone see me in a bikini for some time after tonight," she commented looking at the plate. "But my penance at the gym will be worth it," she added, once she'd tasted the gnocchi.

Methos watched her. "Good?"

"Yes very. Thank you for such a delightful evening."

"No, thank you. I was afraid I might have scared you off yesterday. I'm glad to see I was wrong." He said before starting in on his own food.

A half smile played around her lips. "I suppose I'm tired of playing it safe. I have, most of my life. I've lived through others. My historical heroes, as it were. It's high time I stopped hiding in my safe little corner of the Village."

"How far away are those heroes from here?" Methos asked.

"At the moment, quite far away. And I'm well rid of them."

"How far are the places they've been?"

She laughed. "Oh, the usual places. Europe, India, Egypt. I had a terrible crush on Alexander in high school. Hard for the poor boys in school to measure up to that."

"He was more fun then most. Horrible decision maker though, couldn't exactly keep it in his pants." Methos said offhandedly.

She laughed. "I think that's a problem most conquerors seem to have. Great power is sexy. It's a magnet for all those who think it will give them some sort of boost to be loved by someone, even only for a few hours, who is a great man - or woman."

Methos opened his mouth, closed it and shook his head. Smiling as he put another piece of gnocchi in his mouth.

"You don't agree?" she asked.

"I do, it's just..." He laughed, looking at her. "You should of been born in another time, sometimes I wonder if you actually know what is was like."

"Just a silly girl who daydreamed a lot instead of playing softball or chasing boys. And one who devoured historical romances," she added, "Which is rather embarrassing for a history professor to acknowledge."

"Not really. Why do we love history? It's the scandal, the timeless romance, chivalry...the men in tights with swords at the ready." He said, illustrating the words with his hands. "That's all history is, love and life."

"Hmmm. I try to tell my students that, but intro history is all about them memorizing dates and facts. But I agree. But it isn't until you get past the basic courses where you can focus on the sweep and grandeur rather than on the bald, neutered facts."

"The downsides of teaching the subject you love." Methos said and pointed at her food with his fork. "Now make your penance worth the effort, we still have to order desert." He instructed.

* * *

P.S. : Beer and reviews make both Methos and Sydney happy.


	6. Immortal Instruction

Disclaimer: I don't own Methos. Majkia does own Sydney, please don't borrow her.

Author's Note: K, kiddies. This is that M for later chapters we promised. We get to see those legs and Methos does something 'really' stupid. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

She laughed and the rest of the dinner, winding up with dessert, left her sitting back in her chair groaning and laughing at the same time. "I'll hate you in the morning, but I'm glad right now that you talked me into dessert."

Methos laughed as he signed the bill and stood, coming around to Sydney's seat to take her hand.

"I'll be sure to leave you alone till late in the afternoon then. Are you ready?"

"That would be the wisest course," she replied. Her arm through his, they walked out to the car and she let him seat her first. "It's a lovely night," she said. "No rain."

Methos looked up and frowned. "No stars though, I miss the stars," he said before putting the car into gear.

"Yes, one of the many downsides of living in the city. I used to spend several weeks during the summers in the country with my relatives. I miss the stars too."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they drove. "Maybe a drive out to the city someday then? We can remind ourselves what they look like."

"All right. Sure. Someday."

Methos heard the maybe in it as they drove up to her apartment and he jumped out to open her door.

"Would you like to come in for a coffee?" she asked as he escorted her to her door. He took the keys and unlocked it for her.

Methos opened the door and cast his eyes over the apartment's interior to buy himself time to think. Whether she meant it to be or not, he didn't think he'd have the will power to leave tonight if he accepted.

Smiling apologetically, he handed Sydney back her keys and kissed her. It was gentle and short, and he pulled back before it could progress.

"I better not," he said softly.

Sydney looked a bit confused by that but recovered swiftly. "Sure. Another time, maybe. Good night, and thanks again for a wonderful evening."

"Good night, Sydney," he said as the door shut in his face. Methos let his head rest against the cold door and groaned. He was going to kill MacLeod for letting that dandy boy conscience of his rub off.

Sydney, meanwhile, kicked off her shoes, one of them skidding back under the sofa where the dust bunnies could attack it. She frowned, walking into the bedroom, undoing the zipper of her dress. "Something I said?" she asked the mirror. "I never can keep my big mouth shut, dammit." She stripped off the bra and panty hose and panties and tossed them in the dirty laundry. She pulled out her usual clothes for sleeping in, but frankly she wasn't very sleepy.

Dressed only in her boy boxers and a camisole top she padded barefoot out to the kitchen to make herself some ice water. She took the glass and walked back into the living room, dropping down onto the couch yoga style. She pulled the pins out of her hair and shook it out.

Then the doorbell rang.

She groaned. It was probably Larry who lived upstairs. He was always forgetting his key. She went to the door and opened it already saying, "I'm gonna tie a key round your neck..." her voice died away when she saw who was standing there. And then she blushed deep red as she remembered how little she wore.

"I don't actually think my actions warrant a key." Methos said as he tried not to rake his eyes across all the bare skin she was presenting him.

Methos had spent five minutes on her doorstep without moving, going over what was right and what was wrong. And then he settled for what was right for them.

"I... I thought you were Larry. He lives upstairs. He always forgets his key. Uhm. He's gay," she added perhaps explaining why she hadn't bothered to cover up to come to the door.

"There are advantages to being gay," he said, finally losing the will to not look. "Unfortunately they'll never reap any of them."

"Uhm, maybe I should get out of the doorway. Did you want that coffee?"

"Yeah," Methos said as he stepped inside. "I do. I'm sorry about before. Like I said yesterday, it's been a long time since I've done this."

Sydney backed up and let him into the apartment, her eyes scurrying around for some more cotton, or linen or silk or something. "Uhm, have a seat I'll make coffee."

"You change quickly," Methos pointed out as he sat. "I can go if you were headed to bed."

"Uh, no, it's fine. Just let me get a robe." She scurried into the bedroom and came out with a short robe that was a bunch of sizes too big for her. "There, that's better. I.. the shoes are uncomfortable," she added as she went into the kitchen.

Methos chuckled as he watched her scamper off and pulled off his trench coat, laying it aside so Sydney didn't accidentally sit on it and ask why there was a steel broadsword underneath the fabric.

She came back into the living room looking a bit less frazzled. "Coffee's perking." She perched on the edge of the couch.

Methos looked at her strangely. "I'm not taking up all the couch, am I?" He asked.

"No, you're good. Comfy?"

Methos smiled warmly. "You know, coffee can just be coffee if you want it to be."

"Uhm, huh?"

"Maybe I should go," Methos said standing, feeling like his foot was lodged somewhere past his molars at this point.

"Wait," she said standing up also. "I'm uhm, nervous. And if you touch me I might.. And god I look like an idiot."

"No you don't," Methos said severely as he turned towards her. He reached out a hand and caressed her cheek. "You're incredibly beautiful and nervous as hell." He said the last part with a little laugh. "And I don't want you to be. If you just want coffee, we'll have coffee. If you want more, then don't be afraid to ask me."

She ignored the last, or maybe hadn't heard it, and said, "Of course I'm nervous as hell. I'm fighting off the urge to toss you over my shoulder and take you in to bed with me. I've been fighting that urge since we started talking about dangly bits."

Methos laughed and it was the only sound she heard before she was shoved back against the nearest wall and his mouth was on hers, begging for entrance with his tongue like he had on stage as his hands slipped under her robe and pushed it off her shoulders.

If he wondered if she might have second thoughts, it became clear from her response she didn't. Her mouth opened to him and one hand went for his zipper.

Methos groaned into her mouth, gasping her wrists and pinning them against the wall. He broke from the kiss, moving his attention to her neck.

"Don't. Move," he whispered into the soft shell of her ear.

Her breathing was ragged and her heart pounded. He could feel the pulse in her throat. "Why not?" she gasped.

"So I can do this." He said as he released her wrists and smoothed his hands down her sides. His thumbs hooked in the tops of her boxers and dragged them down and off her hips. Kneeling in front of her, he pulled the boxers to her feet and had her step out of them. They were tossed aside, and the robe followed it once he'd stripped it from her arms.

She lifted her arms as he slowly pulled the camisole top up and over her head. Her eyes met his once the camisole went to the floor with the rest of her clothes.

Methos looked at her with lust drunk eyes, reaching out to experimentally cup one of her breasts and brush a thumb across the nipple.

It sprang to life at his touch, and one of her hands went up toward his face. she ran a finger across his lips. Her own lips parted, her tongue moistening them as she watched him watching her.

He kissed the finger and pulled her towards him, his hand slipping behind her knees as he lifted her in his arms.

"Where's the bedroom?" he asked as he nuzzled his mouth against her jaw.

She directed him past the couch and through the door. As he carried her, her hands were opening buttons of his shirt, carefully, one at a time, as if opening a precious package.

The bedroom was small and there wasn't much more there than the bed, one end table and one small bureau. The light by the side of the bed was the only lighting in the room.

Methos gently laid Sydney on the bed, positioning himself over her body as he pressed a knee between her thighs to part them. His hand found the tingling spot between her legs and his fingers explored her as he trailed burning kisses up her shoulder and the slope of her neck.

She got his shirt open and ran her hands up his chest, feeling the taut muscles, exploring the ripples of his chest. She moved as his fingers penetrated her, a little gasp of pleasure escaping her lips. Then her hands went to his belt, undoing it and finally unzipping his pants.

She laughed, a throaty little laugh. "Ah. dangly bits."

Methos smiled against her throat. "All yours, Eve," He said before his finger found that tight bundle of nerves and swirled his finger around it.

She arched up and gasped as his finger found her pleasure centers. "Stop. Clothes off," she ordered. "Tights too, if you're wearing them. I want to see every inch of you."

He chuckled and did as he was told. Kicking off his shoes first, socks following those. He took his time untucking the shirt from his pants and peeling it off, knowing there were eyes on him. He left the bed and stood to shuck off his pants, not having anything on underneath them he let the slick fabric fall to the floor in one motion as he kicked them aside.

She watched his every move, and when he rejoined her on the bed, her fingers traced the scar on his abdomen. Her eyes were huge as she took in it's placement and realized by all rights it ought to have been fatal. Next she found the tattoo on the inside of his wrist and kissed it. Her hand went to his groin, exploring his obvious interest and readiness, her fingers light now, exploring not yet actively encouraging him, but nonetheless causing him pleasure with that warm and inviting touch. Her other arm hooked round his neck and she pulled him down for an open mouthed kiss.

Methos's breath was ragged as he returned the kiss, his tongue dueling with hers for dominance as he dragged her down beneath him, grinding his pelvis against hers as he nipped at her lower lip.

Her hands went round his waist and explored his buttocks, and then her legs came up going around his waist. Her eyes were closed as he could feel her letting herself go, getting into it purely sensually, her mind ceding control to her body and to him.

Methos propped himself up on his elbows, brushing her hair away so he could see her eyes. "Sydney." he said gently, asking for permission.

Her eyes opened and it took a second for the sensual to give way to her intellect, but when it did she focused on him and said, "Yes."

He leaned down kiss her and he brought their hips aligned as he eased into her with one fluid motion. Holding her body close as they both let out sharp moans, he waited a moment for her to adjust before he pulled out a little and thrust back into her, biting down on her shoulder as he was surrounded by her warmth again.

She shuddered a little as a wave of a climax passed over her, eliciting a little groan of pleasure or passion as it did so, and her muscles tightened on him, drawing him inside her further. She clung tightly to him and despite her obvious enjoyment of what was happening she matched the rhythm of his thrusts and the way he pulled back.

Her hair was spread across her pillows as her body reached for more, her eyes opening to meet his, her look all sensual passion.

It was her eyes, her eyes and the way her body tightened around him that made his rhythm speed, that made him nuzzle into her hair and mumble Greek into her ear as his body took over for his mind his hands slipping under her shoulders to pull her into each thrust. She was clueless to what he was whispering besides her name, but Methos knew every single word of praise and lust that fell from his own lips.

Her inner muscles tightened at the thrusts, pulling him further in, making him shudder, forcing his body to struggle to maintain the point just before ejaculation when the pleasure was pain, the pain pleasure, the need was for release but the desire was instead to keep going as long as possible.

She shuddered as another orgasm washed over her, her own words not in any language other than primal passion.

Her orgasm took him with her, and her name was a harsh gasp between clenched teeth as he came. His body lost the will to support itself as he collapsed onto her, he rolled them in one motion with what strength he had left and held her as close as humanly possible as his body shuddered through the last pleasurable spasms shooting across every nerve as his body sang.

When he was finally still, he felt her move a bit, and his eyes went up to hers. There was a satisfied little smile on her lips and her eyes were still dark pools, her irises open from the passion. She moved enough to put her lips to his forehead and then put one soft kiss on each of his eyelids.

He sighed under such gentle kisses, a smile twisting his lips. He let his fingertips trail a path down her throat, her shoulder and arm, all the way down to her hand. Threading his fingers through hers, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"I'm glad you came back," she said, a smile playing on her lips after the kiss broke. "Just in case you couldn't tell."

"So am I." He said, his voice having a different timber as he tilted his head up to kiss the pulse point in her throat and feel it jump a little under his tongue.

"You were right," she said after a moment.

He pulled back and looked up at her. "About what?"

"Not needing to actually see you in tights."

Methos laughed and pulled her down into a kiss, smiling against her mouth.

She snuggled down against him, content in the circle of his arms. "And to think I have a hundred exam papers to thank for this. Perhaps I should give them all A's."

Methos chuckled as he stroked her hair, then he fell silent. Twirling a strand of blond between his fingers absently as he thought.

"Do you remember what I said earlier about leaving the city to see the stars?" He asked softly.

"Hmmm. It reminded me of simpler times. Yes."

He smiled. "I was wondering if you'd like to see the stars under a different sky. Maybe Paris for starters, and see where we go from there?"

"Paris," she replied dreamily.

"We can go tomorrow. I can take you to the Louvre, maybe a dance on the Eiffel Tower, I can even introduce you to Joe and get a few free beers while we're at it."

She squirmed around so she could have a better look at his face. "Silly. I can't just go off to Paris tomorrow. I've got a job, more's the pity. And students and bills and.. well, responsibilities. But if I could... " her eyes turned dreamy. "Oh, if I could, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"I suppose." He smiled sadly. "But Sydney...they're only dreams unless you go out there and do them. And you have so little time with so much world to see."

She nodded. "I am off this summer. Two more weeks of work though. Then I have two months of freedom."

"Is that a promise?" He asked, kissing her forehead. "Paris, Spain, Egypt, Italy... and whatever else I can fit in so little a time?"

She bit her lip, obviously thinking very hard about it. "All right. I can hock my jewels."

Methos rolled them over so he was looking down at her. "No you won't. I have enough to spend away your entire life abroad, all I want from you is you. And to see the world through your eyes."

She blushed. "That's really very nice but.. but I'd feel very awkward expecting you to pay all the expenses."

Methos scowled at her. "Fine, you can buys the drinks."

She scowled back. "Even at Joe's."

"But they're free at Joe's." He whined.

"Look it's a lovely thought, but .. but I hardly know anything about you. What'll I tell my father? That I've let some total stranger come in and whisk me off to Europe? Oh, wait... He'd tell me to go for it."

Methos leaned down and kissed her, later on he'd claim that her mouth had somehow short circuited his brain, because what came out of his mouth was not the well rehearsed words he'd planned on.

"If he's that worried, you can tell him that a 5,000 year old immortal is quite capable of protecting and taking care of his beautiful daughter." Moments later his mind kicked back in and his eyes widened a fraction. "Bollocks!"

"I've heard some whoppers in my time, but that one has to rank right up there," she replied with a giggle. "I can imagine you would be rich. Even getting only 1 or 2 on an investment, would accrue you a handsome fortune indeed. Too bad you can't see into the future. Did you buy IBM and Google when they were a dollar a share?"

Methos groaned and let his head fall to rest on her breast. "Again, tell a lady the truth and she doesn't believe you." He sighed. "And if you hold onto souvenirs from your younger days it turns out that they're worth a pretty penny in a few centuries or so."

"Yea, I can imagine. People pay a good deal for quality antiques. Although I'm not sure what a 5000 year old man would fetch on the open market."

"Now you're just laughing at me," he grumbled.

"Well, aren't you laughing at me?" she asked, a grin on her face.

But Methos wasn't smiling. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out before getting out of bed and padding naked out of the bedroom. He came back with one of Sydney's letter openers and knelt on the bed, pulling her up so she'd do the same.

He took her hands and curled them around the handle of the letter opener, pressing the point over his heart. He held it there, his grip strong on her hands as he looked into her eyes.

"Sydney, my names not Adam Pierson." He began slowly. "I've only had that name for the past thirty years, soon I'll have to change it so people won't wonder why Adam doesn't seem to age. I'm 5,000 years old, an immortal. My real name is Methos and I can't die."

Then without warning he thrust her hands forward and the small blade pierced his heart. Methos cried out in pain and fell back on the bed, pulling Sydney with him from his grip still tight around her hands.

* * *

P.S. Both Sydney and Methos would appreciate reviews and a good lager. Okay, Methos requested the last one.


	7. Immortal Confession

Disclaimer: I do not own Methos or Highlander. Majkia does own Sydney.

Author's Note: And of course, I realize now why Methos is never the one asked to explain immortality to anyone. He's absolute rubbish at it. Learn with Methos why killing yourself in front of your new girlfriend is just plain stupid. We hope you enjoy the Old Man's folly. More M rating stuff included.

Also, Majkia and I would both like to say that we really appreciate you guys who have been sending us such wonderful reviews. They make us very happy and confident about this story and we have less bottle caps tossed in our direction. Thank you!

* * *

She struggled, trying to get free of his grip, sobbing. "The phone. Let go. I'll call 911. Jesus. Adam!" she cried, desperate to do something but held too tightly to fight free.

"No...no, just wait." Methos begged as he released one hand to pull the bloody letter opener out of his chest and tossed it aside, his eyes wide as his heart started to die. His breathing was labored. "It hurts like hell...but it'll pass."

He held her chin so she would look at him and smiled grimly as his labored against the pain. "See you in a second." He said just before his heart stopped. His head fell back onto the bed.

That's when the small crackle of blue light engulfed the wound.

She stared at him, at the light, at the death grip he held her in, tears streaming down her face, but wanting desperately to hope.

Twenty seconds passed before the blue light faded, leaving nothing but dried blood and smooth skin, it took ten more seconds before his heart started again.

Methos gasped as his back rose off the bed, his eyes widening as he tried to drag air into his lungs. His body shook as he tried to steady himself and the pain of reviving swallowed him. He cursed. "Bloody hell, I wish there was a less a painful way of doing that!" He groaned as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

She sat there and began shivering, her eyes wide with shock. "What the hell were you thinking! What the hell are you! Who are you? I don't... It can't.. Jesus..."

He laughed and then groaned when that still hurt. "I told you. Methos, oldest immortal alive, nice to meet you." He reached for her hand, trying to calm her down as the pain passed and he sat up. "Sydney, it's still me, the man you met a few days ago. All that's different is you know the whole truth now."

"I know.. what whole truth? That, what, no matter what, you don't die? That .. that you just go on forever? Alone?" The last word came out awfully small.

In the dark she could of missed the sudden pain in his eyes as he pulled her into his arms, his hold soothing and strong at the same time. "I'm not alone here." He whispered. "Not here, not now."

He could feel her heat pounding as he held her, feel the wetness of her cheeks. She clung to him for some time not saying anything. Then, as her body began to return to normal, she said quietly, "I knew your name wasn't Adam."

Methos nodded. "I knew you'd figure it out on your own eventually. But I promised myself I'd never lie to you." He smiled. "You're just too bloody smart for your own good."

She drew back a bit from him and touched the scar on his abdomen. "And this? Why is it still here, since the new one healed," she asked.

He watched her trace the scar, sucking in a breath at contact with the still sensitive skin, after all these centuries. "It's how I died, the first time." He said, a faint smirk at the ridiculousness of that sentence. "We're all humans in the beginning. Normal life spans, normal lives, a dog and a horse if we're lucky. Then we're murdered and become what we are. It happens with all immortals." He shrugged, scrubbing the dry blood from his chest with the heel of his hand. "Some wake up new born and shunned, some are lucky...And some get killed off before they even learn what they are." He said.

"But you said you don't die," she replied. "Others? Many others?'

"Oh, that's the best part," Methos corrected sarcastically. "We can die. But that would only happen if you took my head. And since we're all a bit old and crotchety, we have swords, the weapon of choice for proper decapitation. I prefer a .45 myself. But it tends to piss people off when you keep shooting them, something about not playing fair." He complained. "But it does help when you have a bunch of head hunters after your arse just to gain quickenings." He waved his hand as if to say that was another topic unto itself.

"I work on and off for an organization that keeps track of immortals," He said, flexing the wrist where his tattoo was. "But even we don't know how many there are."

She pondered it all. "The secret society you mentioned, as if it were a joke," she said. "So you .. did you meet Alexander?" She laughed, sounding a bit embarrassed. "God, I'd be locked away if anyone heard me ask that seriously."

"Not by me, that is unless I suddenly become the center of your next thesis," His eyes narrowing a fracture. "Then I might have to silence you somehow." He joked.

"Who would believe me if I did?" she asked finally finding a weak smile.

"Are you all right?" He asked gently as he brushed the still wet tears from her cheek.

She shivered. "No. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry, but a cut could of been played off as a trick, piercing my hand would of been explained the same way. I needed you to believe me." He carefully leaned forward and kissed her. "Forgive an insolent bastard?"

She frowned at him. "Was I the only one who didn't know? At the bar, I mean."

"MacLeod knows because he's like me, nowhere near as old but he's the one who acts like the ancient one sometimes. Julian, because we have a past. But that's it, everyone else thought I was simply long lived or just a guy. And I prefer it that way." His brow furrowed. "Does it bother you?"

"It's.. I don't know. I mean, it would be nice to talk to someone who can reassure me I'm not completely bonkers and this is all some sort of Lost fugue state or something."

Methos nodded. "Then seeing Joe is the best plan. He's a watcher, the organization I told you about, his job is to document what we do, keep track of us. Or MacLoed would be more then happy to talk to you, good old boy scout that he is."

"Why did you tell me all this.. show me this?" she asked, watching his expression carefully.

"Because, you were right. I'm alone." He said, feeling the sudden hollow truth of it.

"I have people like Joe and MacLeod, but they're all a part of it. And taking another immortal as a lover is too dangerous, eventually they'll kill me for who I am. Because like you said, people change. More so over the span of a hundred years then over ten or twenty. After that much time you can barely recognize a person. And..." He swallowed and watched her eyes. "When you've lived as long as I have, you can understand how you feel about someone much sooner then you once did."

"I'd have thought it would be the other way round. Especially if there are enemies out there, and others watching you. Why are others watching you?"

"They're bored?" Methos said with a shrug and grin. "I joined so no one would ever find me. I pretended to be a mortal and ended up being in charge of finding myself. Needless to say, that hasn't happened yet." He wore a rueful smile. "But Watchers aren't allowed to interfere and for the most part immortals don't know they exist. They just watch."

"It seems pretty silly to me, but okay. So... Methos," she said it a bit experimentally. "I guess since you don't want to find yourself you use Adam."

"Exactly." Methos said, a smile coming immediately as she used his real name. "You catch on quickly, Professor."

"Well, I was well off my game on you. I certainly had not thought you a decrepit fellow of 5000. I usually date younger men. You know what they say about men reaching their sexual peak much younger than women."

Methos was doing a perfect impression of a fish with the way his mouth hung open. "Decrepit? I'll have you know, child, that I've had the pleasure of making some woman weep at the chance of being with me. How is that decrepit?" There was a certain haughty note to his voice that made him sound more like a petulant child then a great romancer at that moment.

"I'll grant you have nice legs and a fair ass," she replied. "Still.. enthusiasm is what women really want. Well, and a tad bit of imagination. Well, and a bit of tenderness at the right moment. Perhaps we can revisit those issues and I'll revise my view of decrepit men?"

"Enthusiasm?" He asked with a crooked grin before suddenly lifting her onto his lap, holding her hips in place. "Imagination...," his fingers ghosted down her spine so they caused only the smallest of tingling vibrations against her skin, raising the small hairs. "Tenderness..." His voice dropped to a near whisper as he brushed the hair away from her neck and rested his cheek on her shoulder, lips parting to blow cool air just beneath her hairline and along the shell of her ear.

"Mmmm," she whispered. "More please," she asked, her hand reaching for his chest, She placed her palm flat against it above his heart, as if she wanted the reassurance of feeling its beating. She smiled down at him.

He looked up from her shoulder and replied in a lazy grin before his nails trailed down her back, reaching down to cup her ass and pull her against him, causing a slow grinding friction. He hissed in her ear even as he nipped her collarbone and blew over the newly laved skin.

She finally broke into laughter. "Have you always been a brat, or did it take centuries to hone the ability to a fine art?"

"Oh, centuries," He said. "And not only did I know Alexander..." He trailed off teasingly kissing just beneath her jaw. "I..." Then bore his teeth on the skin. "Was one of his favorites."

"Were you indeed," she replied then yelped as he bit down. "I'm going to have to endure overly Bruted male students staring at that bruise and imagining how it got there, you know. I don't even want to guess what they'll think."

Then after a moment she asked, "One of his favorites?"

Methos pulled back and smiled at her. "Probably not the information you were hoping for. But I'm not in the habit of kissing and telling. Or to speak unkindly of the dead. As for your students..." He said, trailing his fingers against the mark. "Tell them I'm newly released from, I don't know, an asylum? And I have massive mood swings between completely giddy to extremely homicidal." He suggested.

"Should I be afraid?" she asked.

"Aren't you?" He asked, looking childishly puzzled.

"Oddly enough, I'm not. Despite delusions of grandeur and imaginative bursts of enthusiasm, I think he's a pretty nice guy. this Methos. And I hope to get to know him better." She pushed against his chest until he fell onto the bed on his back. She moved so she could straddle him and sat on his hips her hands toying with the fine hair on his chest.

Methos eyes slid closed for a moment, as his hands slid up her taunt stomach and over her breasts. "I hope so too." He said as his hands found her hips.

She felt him respond and she raised up to slip him inside her, her eyes closing as she did so, but her lips curving up in a smile at his grunt of appreciation. She began moving on him, slowly, tortuously slowly for him.

Methos groaned out loud, his chest rising and falling in an uneven tempo that only worsened each time she slid back down onto him. His fingers dug into her hips and he made the mistake of pulling her down a little harder the next time. It sent a jolt through him that made his eyes fly open and his mouth form a silent 'o' of pleasure and pain.

She hesitated for a moment her concentration gone suddenly as a wave of pleasure spasmed through her. Methos felt it in the muscles tensing over him. She arched backward with the orgasm, an a groan of pleasure escaped her.

Methos helped her ride out the rest of her release and brought her mouth down to his as he shuddered, fingers twining in her hair as he kissed her.

Afterwards, both of them spent, muscles like jelly, they lay in each others arms.

"So..." Methos said once he could breathe again. "Two weeks, beers with Joe in Paris, right?"

"You're serious," she asked.

Methos looked wounded. "I'm a very serious guy."

"Hmmmm. Right. Lucky I have a current passport then."

"Prepared, I like that." Methos said, then his fingers traced her nose and lips. "But you can say no, now that you know what you do." He let out a deep breath. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

She laughed, deep in her throat. "You obviously don't know me well. I'm intensely curious, and awfully stubborn. Not to mention far too intrigued by a hidden world I know next to nothing about to not go."

"Good lord, I'm falling for Pandora herself." Methos said. "Heaven help all immortals."

"It's all your fault," she retorted. "Just be glad the Watchers didn't recruit me. See?" she showed him her untattooed arms.

He took her unblemished skin and kissed where she was unburdened. "Give Joe a week, he'll try to make you my personal walking conscience."

"Ah, now I definitely am going. That I've got to hear. So, do I need to make plane reservations?"

"No. You pack, fend off Brut wearing students and bring something other than Bloom or A Concise Guide to read on the plane." Methos ordered. "The rest I'll do."

"Ok, now you need to go, because I need a few hours of sleep. And I have a day of grading exams to look forward to. Blech."

"So you take advantage of my body and then kick me out?" Methos asked curiously. "I feel so used."

"Will you actually let me sleep if you stay?" she asked, the look in her eye clearly saying she didn't believe that for a minute.

Methos looked extremely thoughtful about that. "I can...try."

Sydney socked him with a pillow. "Out. Call me. After noon."

Methos spluttered a bit under the barrage of pillow. "All right, fine!" He yelped and dove from the bed, glowering back at her as he gathered all his things. "But you better make it up to me tomorrow."

"Maybe... If you are extra specially nice."

A dangerous smile appeared on Methos lips as he buttoned his shirt.

Sydney laughed seeing it. Then said, "I'll accept my fate. Well, I'll try to." She watched him as he dressed, perhaps having second thoughts of her own about him leaving.

"Good girl," He teased as he walked over and leaned in to place on last heated kiss against her mouth. "Good night."

"Good night, Methos," she replied. She pulled on her robe, walked with him to the door, watching as he picked up his coat. "Be careful."

He smiled, pulling on his coat, a gleam of steel she wouldn't have seen if he didn't want her to. "Don't worry, I always am."

"Good." She watched him out the door and down the steps. And then she sank onto her sofa. "Oh God. Am I a total idiot?" She laughed, hugged herself and went to bed.

* * *

P.S. We love reviews and beer. Throw the first, but not the second please. Shaken beer is messy.

P.P.S. (From the characters.)

_Dear Adam,_

_It was a blast._

_Syd_

_Attached: One bill for the Village Cleaners for 20 bucks to get blood out of a set of sheets. _

_Dear Sydney,_

_And worth every bloody dime._

_love, _

_Adam_


	8. The Talk

Disclaimer: I do not own Methos or Duncan. Majkia does own Sydney.

Author's Note: When in doubt, ask Duncan. Enjoy!

* * *

"Mac, I need you to do me a favor." Methos said as he burst into the apartment.

Duncan only looked up for an indifferent second before returning to the food he was cooking on the stove.

"That would depends on how much I'm not going to enjoy doing it." Duncan said as he reached past Methos' shoulder to grab some spices.

"I need you to talk to Sydney for me." The older immortal said as he took a seat on the kitchen counter which Duncan brushed him off of a moment later.

"What am I supposed to tell her, Methos? That you had a completely average childhood and your odd references to events you could never have been at are just one of the pleasant quirks of your personality?" Duncan joked.

Methos bit the inside of his mouth. "It's not a lie I'm asking for, MacLeod. I told her everything last night."

"You what!?" Duncan asked, looking slightly flabbergasted that the old man would do something so bold or stupid. "Then what do you want me to tell her? The same thing with a few extra thousand years slapped on?"

"No," Methos growled with annoyance. "She's afraid that she might be crazy, that she might be imagining it all."

"Hard to believe why she thinks that." Duncan mumbled.

Methos glared. "I just need you to talk to her, answer any questions she has. And don't elaborate." The last part was said in warning and Duncan looked away, knowing what he meant.

Still, Duncan managed to stir his pasta in stubborn silence for a few seconds with Methos glaring into his back before he caved.

"If it will get you out of my hair for a day, yes, all right? Just let me know when she has time." Duncan grudgingly said.

"That's great. I'll go get her, she's just downstairs." Methos said as he headed for the door.

"You brought her here without asking me?" Duncan asked incredibly.

Methos just shrugged in the doorway. "I knew you'd say yes."

Sydney, who'd been feeling a bit of a fool hanging around downstairs, looked up when Methos came barreling down the stairs. "Ah there you are. I wondered if you'd jumped out a window to escape unseen or something."

"No, but I was nearly thrown out one a moment ago." Methos said simply. "MacLeod's agreed to answer any questions you like. Did you want me to come up with you?" He asked.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Any questions I ought especially to ask? Or not as the case may be?"

Methos smiled and walked over to her, running his hand down the side of her face. "I think not asking the questions defeats the purpose of this little outing, don't you? If there's anything you need to know especially, Duncan will tell you. All the rest is what you want to hear."

She met his eyes and nodded. "Well, I asked for it, didn't I? So no sense getting cold feet now."

"Don't worry, MacLeod's a teddy bear compared to me. Just don't get any ideas." Methos teased. "I'll be waiting down here when you're done." He promised.

She nodded and took the stairs a bit reluctantly, suddenly having serious second thoughts on the wisdom of the whole idea. One quote kept going through her head. 'Never exaggerate your faults; your friends will attend to that.' Still... she climbed the stairs and came to a stop in the doorway.

"It's open." A voice called from the other side of the door before she knocked, the sounds of pots and pans being moved around clear.

Sydney pushed the door open and stuck her head in. "Duncan. Hi. Sydney. You probably don't remember me from the other night. I'm not sure we spoke much at all."

"No we didn't," Duncan agreed as he came out of the kitchen cleaning his hands off before he offered one to her with an inviting smile. "But I've heard enough about you over the last week that I don't think that matters now."

She took his hand in her small one and gave it a serious shake. "Uhm, this is awkward. Well, for me, anyway."

"Which part?" Duncan asked curiously.

"Well, all of it really. I'm not used to going to someone else to ask questions about my friends. But since I was seriously wondering about my sanity.. well, at times I still am, here I stand."

"Considering Methos' flair for the dramatic I'm not surprised," he said with no small amount of pity. "Have a seat," He said, gesturing to the long couch in the living room. "Would you like something to eat, I was just cooking something?"

"Thank you, no. But please go ahead and eat it while it's hot." She walked over and took a seat on the couch. "You seem to be taking this well. Some strange woman you don't know coming in to ask questions. Questions which, I might add, I'm not even sure I can formulate in an understandable manner."

Duncan put the food on a back burner and came back with only a bottle of wine and two glasses. "You might need this." He said simply and poured them each a glass before continuing.

"Methos isn't the first immortal to tell someone about what we are, and he won't be the last. But it's good that you're questioning it now. It doesn't just mean that you believe it's true, it's that you want it to be true." Duncan said. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, firstly, I want it to be true only in the sense that if it isn't then Methos is mad and I'm not far behind him. I suppose, given that, I just want some sort of ... I've no idea. Someone who can say that yes, what Methos has said is the truth. Am I making any sense at all, because I'm seriously wondering if I am at all."

"He told you he was a 5,000 year old immortal who couldn't die? That the only way to kill him is to take his head with a sword and that he's not the only immortal in the world?" Duncan asked dead pan, his face blank of expression.

She took a deep breath, and then a swallow of wine. "Yeah, that's pretty much what he said."

"Did he tell you that I'm like him, an immortal?"

She nodded and took another swallow of wine. "Afraid so."

Duncan smiled. "Don't worry, he's not that creative."

"Oh," she said, staring down at her wine glass. "So, that it then?"

Duncan shrugged. "If that's all the questions you have, which I doubt. But I do want you to know that you're not in danger here, even if the old man wasn't pacing downstairs I won't let any harm come to you." He said seriously.

"Oh," she repeated giving him a rather bewildered look. "It never occurred to me I might be. You're his friend right?"

"I'd like to think so most of the time, or at least the closest thing you can have as friendship with another immortal. You just seem nervous that's all. I'm just not sure what about." Duncan said as he refilled her glass.

"Well, this feels a bit like hallway gossip and I abhor that. So I'm feeling a bit defensive is all." She paused and added, "He's asked me to go to Europe with him over my summer holidays. I'd like to hope that if he's likely to behead me while we're there you'd warn me."

"You're not immortal, and what's more you're not an aggressive immortal. So you have nothing to worry about in that department." Duncan said, though he looked slightly surprised. "When did he ask you to go to Europe?"

"Oh." She paused. "I really should move on to a different letter of the alphabet. Uhm. He asked me... oh a few days ago." She knew exactly when but wasn't about to say so.

Duncan set his glass down and tried to word what he said next very carefully. "You don't get sick easily, do you? No illness or anything...that would make traveling hard, I mean?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, the bewildered look back. "Do I look ill? I mean, I'm a bit confused but otherwise reasonably healthy for a woman my age. Do allergies count?"

Duncan felt a weight lift and he smiled. "No, and you look...perfectly healthy, I was just wondering if that might be the reason you'd turn him down. He told me you were a historian, I'd offer the same thing if I were in his shoes."

"Oh. Hell, there's that letter again. It's ... well, you know how you're raised to always carry 20 dollars in your bra so you can get home if the guy turns out to be an ass and you have to slap his face and call a taxi? Well, doing so from Europe is a bit more expensive and I'm a historian who makes a decent amount of money for New York , but who isn't exactly used to jet-setting around Europe with boyfriends. Particularly not boyfriends I've only known a few weeks, really. You know?"

Duncan chuckled. "Not really, but I can imagine."

He stood and walked over to a chest of drawers and opened the topmost one. "But if you're so worried about things going south and being stranded in the middle of Madrid, I'll do this." He said after a bit of rummaging and then came out with a small roll of hundreds which he held out to her. "I'll lend you this, no strings attached. If you feel extremely guilty you can leave something as collateral, but I can't promise to keep it. If things go bad, use it to get home."

Her jaw dropped. "I can't take that."

"I'm not giving you a choice." Duncan said bluntly.

"Of course I have a choice," she retorted sharply. "It's a nice gesture but no thank you."

Duncan frowned. "All right, and if you're fears come true, then what? I don't remember history teacher being a good way to make fast money in a foreign country."

She stood up. "I'll... I'll hook on a street corner, all right? Really. Are you.. immortals all crazy, because right now I'm wondering."

"I'm not trying to offend you," Duncan said quickly, back pedaling from a fight. "But I obviously have, and I'm sorry." He slipped the money into his pocket. "Please, sit back down."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, too. I know you didn't. It's just... It's me." She sat back down though, and chugged some wine.

"Maybe the wine was a bad idea." He said before putting the bottle aside. "What I should have told you is Methos wouldn't do that. If you have a fight, maybe things don't go along as planned, he'll make sure you get home in one piece. He's already swearing to protect you just by being around you; I don't think a little spat will make him retract that."

She looked at him warily. "Oh. Kay," she added quickly. "I won't worry then. I'll just keep my visa in my bra. Really, thank you, Duncan. And I acted horribly to you, and yes, perhaps it was the wine."

"My fault for suggesting it."

"No," Sydney said, blushing. "It's me. I knew you meant only to help. I just get... silly some times. The same reason I hesitated about taking Methos up on going to Europe. I'm used to paying my own way and I'm a bit too proud about it I guess."

Duncan smiled. "And Methos is used to leeching off of every mortal and immortal in the surrounding area just because he can, so you make the perfect couple."

"Uhm, he can't afford the trip? Should I just say no?" Sydney asked worriedly, biting her lip.

"I said he doesn't usually, I didn't say he couldn't." Duncan corrected.

"Ah," Sydney said, still looking a bit uncertain. "You've known him a long time?"

"Thirteen years." He calculated aloud.

"Oh, so, uhm, not long in the, uhm, long sense. Still..."

"I know it doesn't seem like a long time, but it's enough to know what the old man's like. He was a myth before, even to me." Duncan scoffed at the memory of meeting the myth.

"Meaning you knew of him but hadn't met him.. I see... This through the demented paparazzi? Or through other... immortals?"

"He's been a legend since before I was even born, a fairy tale." Duncan said and then paused. "Demented paparazzi? What's he been doing lately?"

"He mentioned some organization which spies on you. They seem pretty perverted to me," she explained. "A fairy tale..." she mused.

Duncan laughed. "You mean the Watchers? I've never heard them explained like that. Oh...Joe will get a kick out of that."

She laughed with him. "Well, granted he didn't say much about them, but... But he did mention Joe. A friend of yours too, then?"

"Well, not in the beginning, no." Duncan said awkwardly. "I had a misunderstanding of what the Watchers were at first, then some problems with a few rogues. But Joe straightened it out, later on he told me about a researcher of his, Adam Pierson. That's how I met Methos."

"Oh. Hmm. It's all very complicated isn't it. Well most relationships are. Longstanding ones anyway. But earlier you said something.. about Methos swearing to protect me," she frowned. "What did you mean?"

Duncan sighed. "There are all kinds of immortals out there, Sydney. Not good, or evil, we run the spectrum like all humans do. But there are immortals out there who would use you to get to Methos, you need to know what kind of danger you'll be in just by knowing us. But his choosing to be with you, means he'll do what he has to to protect you."

"Well, as you say, us normal humans are the same. I could get mugged or murdered any day. Another building could get blown up here in the city. Or the jet to Europe could crash. So just living, and not being afraid to take risks, is dangerous. But thank you for explaining that." Sydney paused, "I've taken up far too much of your time. But I thank you for what you've said, and for the offer of assistance, even if I behaved badly about it. I'm glad to met you, Duncan MacLeod."

Duncan let out a sound somewhere between a frustrated sigh and a growl before he looked at the woman across from him with an ounce of pleading. "Look, I didn't mean for it to sound that way. It's just that some people think we're inhuman, monsters for some reason because we don't die like the rest of the world. You just need to know that you're part of the Gathering now, just a friendly warning."

"The gathering?" she asked. "What gathering is that?"

"The Gathering is, it's hard to explain." Duncan said as he took a swallow from his own glass. "First you need to know what happens when an immortal kills another immortal, there's this power called the Quickening which transverses all that immortals abilities, memories and knowledge into you. Making you smarter, faster and more powerful. The Gathering is when all the immortals try to challenge and best each other for the ultimate goal..."

"That's... what ultimate goal?"

"That in the end there can be only one." Duncan said simply. "One immortal with the power of all the other immortals. And with that much power and knowledge, they will rule the world for centuries."

"You're not serious," Sydney said.

Duncan just shrugged. "I honestly didn't believe it either at first. It might not even be true, but there are more then enough out there who do believe it. And that's enough to keep the killing going."

"Yes, some people believe almost anything. And kill for a lot of totally insane reasons. So you're telling me that Methos is a target of these maniacs and that I may be simply because I'm his friend?" Her eyes went wide.

Duncan nodded.

"Are you telling me this because you think Methos is putting himself at risk because of me?" she asked, meeting his eyes. "And that it is a mistake?"

"No, I don't think it's a mistake, you're all he talks about." He said quickly. "Which is a welcome change since he's either moping or bothering me to pass the time. But you have a right to know what you're getting yourself into so when things do start happening, you can...make the right decision based on the truth."

She frowned at him thinking over what he'd said, and more, what he hadn't said. "Are all of you this lonely?"

Duncan was quiet for a moment. "We try not to be."

Sydney watched him for a moment. "I'd think immortality alone would be awful enough to have to deal with, without the crazies trying to grab power by taking your heads. Which, I suppose, is a gruesome enough occupation to attract a certain sort of man - or woman. I thank you for explaining it. I'm not sure I believe it all, understand, but then I've seen crazier things believed by others, so who am I to say it isn't, or can't be so."

"I'm just glad you had an open enough mind not to run screaming the first few minutes." Duncan said with a little laugh as he stood and shook her hand. "I'm here if you have anymore questions, Sydney. Don't be afraid to call over if you have any."

"Thank you, Duncan. Maybe I'll see you in less .. educational circumstances."

She was looking thoughtful as she walked down the stairs to where Methos waited.

"So, did MacLeod shed light on any of my less then appealing qualities?" Methos asked jokingly, but there was an edge of worry to his tone.

"Mmmmm. He did," she replied gravely. "He said you tended to sulk and hogged the hot water."

Methos sighed. "The century old complaints of an ungrateful room mate, now you know my horrible secret."

"I do," she said with a laugh. "So no pulling any scams on me, buster."

"Fair enough," Methos said as he leaned forwards to kiss her cheek. "No brooding after six and I'll wait to take a bath at my own place. Deal?"

"Deal," she said wrapping her arms around his. "He's very odd, though."

"How so?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"He frowns a lot, doesn't he?"

"MacLeod...is...well, he tries to be the stoic one. You'll find though that the man can be pretty damn devious when he wants to be. Then there's no hope of wiping that manic grin off his face." Methos grumbled.

Sydney grinned and cocked her head. "He assured me you wouldn't suddenly decide to take my head. I confess I hadn't ever thought you might."

"That's good to know." He said, thinking about leaving something unpleasant in Duncan's bed tonight.

"And he asked me some very confusing questions. Thus my comment that he's odd. Still, he's your friend so I'm glad for the chance to get to know him a little. I was surprised you've only known each other for thirteen years. I guess... well, I thought you'd known one another much longer."

"Oh, believe me. It feels like MacLeod's been walking on my shadow for much longer then that." His brow furrowed. "But you said strange questions, strange how?"

"Oh I don't know. About traveling. Like he thought I'd have trouble with it or something."

"Trouble?" Methos raised an eyebrow. "You're not having second thoughts again, are you?"

"No, not at all," she replied. "It was more like he thought I was ill or something. As I said, very strange."

"He what?" Methos asked just above a whisper and his face changed. The smile was gone and his eyes were smoldering. He gently extracted himself from Sydney's arms and kissed her forehead. "Stay here." He told her before he went barreling back up the steps to Duncan's apartment.

Sydney stood there for a couple of seconds wondering just what had happened. Then, frowning, she followed him.

"Where do you get the right to compare her to Sydney!?" Methos seethed in Duncan's face, his hands fisted in the Highlander's shirt as he pinned him against the wall.

"I had to be sure, Methos." Duncan said calmly.

"What did I say?" Sydney asked, loudly so they'd hear her. "I'm sorry. I've no idea what made him angry, Duncan."

"It's all right, Sydney. He's right." Duncan said quickly, but Methos didn't turn to her.

"You're damn right, I'm right!" Methos hissed before he shoved Duncan hard against the wall one last time before releasing the Scott. "Not everyone I love is dying, so stay out of it Highlander!"

Sydney bit her lip, turned and took the stairs at a near run.

Methos caught the flash of her hair as she ran down the stairs. "Sydney?"

As Methos ran after her, Duncan went to his earlier deserted glass of wine and swallowed it in one go. "Never again." He swore.

Sydney didn't slow down, she marched across the dojo floor and headed out the door.

"Sydney, slow down." Methos said as he jogged to catch up with her.

She looked back over her shoulder at him. And came to an abrupt halt. "What?"

"I need to explain." He said. "The last thing I want is for you to walk away because of this."

"I really really hate it when friendships of long standing suddenly fall apart because of someone who comes into them. Really. Hang onto Duncan. He's got your best interests at heart." She'd turned and stood with her hands crossed protectively across her chest, looking up at him a bit defiantly.

"You're not," Methos said. "Believe me, this particular friendship's been through a lot worse. And what just happened has nothing to do with Mac disapproving of you."

She looked down at her shoes. "Well, then what was it? I mean, I have no idea what I could have said. I'm sorry."

"I..." His voice died in his throat and tightened. "Alexa...her name was Alexa. She was a waitress at Joe's bar."

She hesitated, then said, "Let's go find a coffee and somewhere to sit down. Then you can tell me all about it."

Methos nodded mutely, hands in his pockets as he followed her.

They found a diner and ordered coffee. She sat across from him and said, "Alexa. Tell me about her."

Methos took in a deep breath and let it out in a short, nervous laugh. "Alexa was...beautiful, charming, funny. I never had a chance. I thought I'd found someone I could spend a lifetime with, no matter what...Then Joe told me she was dying." The smile that twitched across his mouth faded. "I told her it didn't matter, that I could handle what was going to happen to her and that I'd stay with her until the end. The doctors said she didn't even have a year, but I was stubborn. I wanted her to see the world, so her last days on earth would be happy ones. I never told her who I really was so we could just focus on visiting places she'd only ever read about..."

Methos' finger curled around the coffee cup, his eyes in the black depths of the coffee itself.

"We only made it to Switzerland before things took a turn for the worst...she never saw anymore then that." He took another deep breath but it sounded shaky on the way out. "MacLeod was afraid that I might be revisiting my mistakes. He was a ringside spectator to how I handled Alexa's death."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know... And when I said you'd invited me to visit Europe he thought... Oh." She reached out for his hand.

"Like I said, it wasn't your fault." Methos said, turning her hand in his.

She sighed. "I just... Are you sure this Europe trip is a good idea? If it's going to dredge up nothing but pain for you, then we should just forget about it."

Methos took her hand between his. "Alexa and I had wonderful memories with the time we had together. This trip, it's something different."

"Are you sure? Because I'm not seeing you because of a promised trip. I'm seeing you because I enjoy you and you make me laugh, most of the time anyway, and .. " she blushed, "and because .. because it's been a long time since I felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And I like it."

Methos smiled and kissed her fingers. "Then come with me."

She studied his eyes for a moment. "All right. Last chance. I say yes now and we're committed. No matter what."

"Fine by me."

She smiled into his eyes. "Good. I'd hate for that killer lingerie I just bought to go to waste."

Methos smirked.

* * *

P.S. Reviews please the immortals and make the mortals giddy. :)


	9. Bon Voyage

Disclaimer: I do not own Methos or Duncan. Majkia does own Sydney.

Author's Note: I realize it's been a while since you guys have heard from us. I was so busy I never had a chance to post any of the chapters that we wrote. But we both hope you guys enjoy the new chapter and know that more chapters will be pushed out on a regular basis from now on.

----

It was not, Sydney knew, going to be a day without tears. Sometimes she managed to get through an entire week without one tear. Most of the time though, they came all too often.

She woke, showered put on jeans and a shirt. She called her dad. She caught a taxi on the square and the ride to the facility wasn't long enough for her. She was struggling to keep her emotions in some sort of order.

Her dad met her at the front door. "Hey," she said to him as she hugged him. "I've got something to discuss with you and mom."

"So what's up Sydney?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, I'm seeing someone, Dad."

Methos waited until he watched them both go in the building before he strolled in and up to the reception counter. He told himself it wasn't snooping. Methos had meant to spend the day with Sydney when he saw her leave the apartment via taxi, he was interested so he'd followed. The destination was a surprise and he should have left, a part of him knew it. But curiosity often killed the immortal.

He flashed a charming smile at the receptionist. "Good morning, I was wondering if you could help me?"

"Certainly sir. What can I do for you?" she replied, flashing her own hopeful smile back.

"I was supposed to meet my girlfriend here, a Miss Sydney Watson. Can you tell me what room I can find her in?" He asked.

"Oh, well, I'm not sure. Are you on the visitor's log? What's your name?"

"Ah, no." He said, folding his arms on the desk. "I seemed to have missed her going in. She said that I could get logged in when we got here, so I don't think she gave my name in advance. I can wait out here but can you tell me how they're doing today, the patient I mean? I just want to know what to expect when she comes out that door." He said, casting a worried look down the hall that was sincere as much as it was for show.

"Yes, she's quite often upset when she leaves. It's hard for both her and her father, you see. Mrs Watson has been like this for so many years, but you know how it is. Everyone hopes even when there is little reason."

The receptionist immediately had all his attention. "I'm sorry, this is the first time I've been here and Sydney was never very clear about it before. What is Mrs. Watson here for?"

The receptionist looked around a bit nervously but then said, "Well, I expect she wouldn't talk about it. Such a tragedy really. It was a brain injury. And Mrs Watson has been, well, non-responsive ever since. You never know, though, if they can hear you. Mr Watson comes and reads to her three or four times a week. And Miss Watson comes as often as she can get away too. So sad. The little girl always coming with her father, so solemn. Well, I wasn't here then, but the head nurse told me."

His throat felt dry even as he thanked the world for gossiping nurses, he wouldn't of wanted to ask Sydney to explain this for the world. And he suddenly felt like the intruder he was.

"Well...thank you." He said, not knowing if that was the proper response. "I'll just wait for Sydney at home then, I don't want to disturb them. Actually, I think it's best you don't tell her I was here. That way she doesn't have to worry about missing me on top of everything else." He explained.

"Well, if you think that's best. But if she asks about you I'll let her know you were here and worried about her." As he started to walk away she added, "You know she smiled today. Miss Watson I mean."

"Doesn't she usually when she sees her father?" He asked curiously.

"Well, he blames her I think. Or perhaps she blames herself. But no, neither of them usually smiles. So I noticed it particularly."

"I'm glad then. I can't imagine her not smiling." He said more to himself then the woman watching him as he turned and walked out.

If she'd smiled while visiting her mother, Sydney wasn't smiling when she walked out of the facility alone. She stood at the street waiting for a taxi, looking bereft and very much alone. Her father was still inside. She'd stayed as long as she could manage it then had to leave. It never changed.

"Sydney." Methos said gently as he pulled away from the side of the building where he'd been waiting for her.

Her reaction was delayed, as if at first she hadn't heard him. Then, slowly she turned around. He watched the emotions cross her face. Gladness at seeing him, then surprise and then she went pale.

"Meth.. Adam. How, I mean, what.." she asked.

"I followed you. It was stupid and wrong, I know. But...I did, and I'm sorry." Methos rambled, looking up at her soft eyes.

"Oh.. I .. " A tear leaked out of one eye and rolled down her cheek. She looked away to hide it.

"No," Methos said gently as he closed the distance and turned her back to look at him. "Don't do that. Please don't hide from me."

Her eyes were swimming with tears now and she squeezed them shut for a second. "I'm not.. I just.. Grief is private."

"Normally you'd be right. But not if it's eating away at you like this, and for so long." He said, rubbing a hand along her back in a soothing manner.

A taxi pulled up then and she said, "Come home with me. Please."

Methos nodded before helping her into the taxi, telling the driver where to take them.

The moment they were moving she snuggled up in his arms. He could feel hot tears on his shirt, but she never sobbed. "I'm sorry. It's silly. It's just... My father hopes so much. It breaks my heart to see him."

"How long?" He asked gently.

"Sixteen years now," she replied after a time. "Sometimes you almost think she's listening. So he comes to read to her and talk things over with her. I came to tell her about our trip."

His arms tightened around her, trying to give comfort. "If I'd known..."

"If you'd known then what?" she asked.

"If you go to see her whenever you can, how are you going to feel when I take you away from her for two months?" He asked.

"It's fine, Methos. Honestly. Should I stay in the city my whole life and not leave her? Even if my father does, I'm not ready to give up all the other things that make life wonderful."

Methos smiled at her, an emotion flickering behind his eyes as he brushed the fresher tears from her cheek.

"Sometimes you don't have to travel half way round the world to find wonderful things." He said before turning to look out the window, silently wondering if she'd understand what he meant someday.

"That can be true, I'm sure. But I'm looking forward to seeing all the places I've read about. And studied. And with someone who won't find my interest in such things annoying. At least I hope you won't."

"You're kidding, right?" He asked with mocking wide eyes. "I'm going to have a field day just trying to hold my tongue when we go to half the places I've planned to take you. It's going to be like seeing it all over again for the first time with you there."

She managed a laugh. "I went to Paris with a colleague and she thought we'd gone to have love affairs. She was annoyed with me the entire time," she confessed. "So I went to England one year alone. I got to see what I wished to see, but .. well, it is far nicer to have someone to share it with."

"Yes it is." He said.

"Hey folks, we're here." The driver said abruptly as they came to their destination.

Methos gave the man an annoyed look as he paid and helped Sydney out.

"So, can you stay?" Sydney asked. "Or do you have plans?"

"I'll stay." He said.

"I'm fine, really," she was saying as she put her key in the door and let them into the building and then into her apartment.

"And I'm staying because you're a terrible liar." He chided as he closed the door behind them.

"Methos, really. It isn't like I haven't done this endless times before. It's just ... depressing. I get over it."

"Sydney, there's a big difference between getting over it and locking it away inside to fester." He said. "She's your mother, you can't stop loving and worrying about her if you tried, but you can't let it kill you either." He pulled her in, holding her hands behind her back so he could hold her closer. "Let me come with you next time, I'd like to meet the beautiful woman I have to thank for you."

She was quiet for awhile then said, uncertainly, "If you're sure you want to do that. You don't need to, really."

"I want to." He said firmly.

She nodded against his chest. "Okay."

He eyed her carefully. "But if you don't want me to go I'll understand."

She looked up at him, tears gone but dried streaks still showing on her cheeks. "Don't you dare think I'm going to regret going to Europe with you."

Methos smiled at her, releasing one of her hands so he could place a finger against her lips. "I think you've proven that to me already."

"Okay, then. I need a shower, then I'll feel better."

"Want some company?" He asked cheekily.

She laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."

Methos released her long enough to pull the bulky sweater over his head and discard it with a comical waggle of eyebrows before he lead her in the direction of the bathroom.

"You'll smell so good after using my soap," she said with a giggle. "I'm not sure what Duncan will think though. I should lay in a supply of something more manly."

Methos's brow furrowed. "If MacLeod is smelling me, I think we have more to worry about then what kind of soap I'm using."

She grinned at that. "Here, let me undress you." She slapped his hand away from herself. "You first." She took her time unwrapping him, and touching skin as she did so. And she didn't hide the fact she liked to look at him.

Methos watched her, waiting till she'd stripped him naked and had her fill of looking before he pulled her in for a kiss. "Your turn." He teased as he nipped her bottom lip.

"Have your evil way with me, sir. Only just be kind."

"Kind?" He asked, slipping a hand under her shirt to undo the bra so he pulled both garments over her head in one go, baring her beautiful breasts to his eyes. "When have I been kind?"

"True," she replied.

His fingers opened her jeans and pushed them down her hips. "Step out." He said.

She did so, her hands restless as if she was struggling not to cover herself under his gaze.

Methos stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing warm skin against skin. He pressed his cheek against hers and breathed in deeply, he waited a moment and let it out. Rubbing her lower back softly he took another deep breath so in sympathetic reaction to his body against hers, Sydney would do the same.

She did breathe with him and began to relax under his touch. She ran a hand up his chest, feeling the muscles there and the beating of his heart and then her fingers touched the pulse point in his neck, light as a feather as she felt him alive and warm and responsive. His breath became sharper in her ear.

His hands ghosted down her body, resting on her hips but not removing her panties.

"I'm going to turn on the taps." He said in a low voice that carried clearly between them. "Don't finish getting undressed without me." He said before moving away from the warmth of her body to set the shower at a comfortable temperature.

"Hmmm. Then what do I get to do," she complained softly, following him over to be nearer the shower.

Methos glanced at her over his shoulder. "Other then the undressing bit, I don't have any objections to what you do."

"Ah," she said, planting a kiss on his butt, as a hand snaked around to his front.

"And...what do you think you're doing?" Methos asked.

"You said I was free to do as I like. I like," she replied, finding something very interesting up front.

Methos groaned and forced himself to stay very still. "I don't...think you're playing fair, madam."

"No?" she asked, not stopping. "But what I'm doing seems to be having a positive effect."

"I'm not arguing that." Methos said as his eyes closed. "The unfair part is not being in a position where I can repay your efforts."

"Ah, well, nothing's stopping you from turning around," she teased.

Methos laughed, a little throaty. "I will if you'd stand up."

"Coward," she teased as she got to her feet. "Aren't you done yet playing with the faucet. It's a guy thing isn't it."

"I was a bit distracted." Methos said in his own defense as he turned around and pulled her flush against his body. "But, I'm not now."

"Good because the package is only partly unwrapped." She shivered when his hands got near her panties.

"I haven't forgotten." Methos whispered into her hair as his hand slipped beneath the strip of fabric and stroked her slowly.

Her breathing changed and her eyes closed as she leaned toward him, her own hands finding him and stroking slowly.

Methos backed away from her hand with a hiss, looping a finger in panties this time to pull her with him into the shower. The warm water splashing down over both of them.

The wet panties slid off, and she reached up to push her hair back off her face, looking up at him with a puzzled frown. "What?"

"If you keep doing that, I can't do this." Methos said as he kissed his way down her throat and along her breasts, capturing one nipple between his lips.

She groaned as he did so, her hands tracking down his chest. and around his hips. "I can't just stand here and not touch," she whispered.

His fingers found her neglected nipple and paid it equal attention as he raised his head to look at her, taking her hand, he moved it from his hip and down, making her cup his ass. He held her gaze intently the whole time as he backed her into the shower wall.

One hand traced his buttocks as the other reached out to his face, and then up into his hair, threading her fingers through it, her eyes not leaving his. She leaned into the shower wall to steady herself.

Methos moaned, his head moving back with the track of her fingers as his eyes closed, pulling her in. She traced the side of his face with her lips and tongue and bit his earlobe, her breath speaking to him for her, the hand against his butt pulling him into to her yet more tightly.

The mixture of sensory input made his breath hitch, and his hips rocked against hers involuntarily. He laughed, a chocked sound as he forced himself to stop though, making it so she set the pace, so she was the one who told him what to do.

She moved to capture his mouth, her tongue demanding entry. One hand snaked down to stroke his already distended member, encouraging him, pulling him forward so the sensitive tip could feel her soft pubic hair against it. He could feel her heart pounding and sense her need, every bit as strong as his own.

He couldn't help it then, his hands balled into fists against the wall, he opened his mouth to her, letting her in he groaned against her lips. His hands trailed down to her hips, resting there as he broke the kiss long enough to whisper a strained 'please', his eyes dark, not asking for submission or dominance, just asking.

"Make love with me, Methos. Please." Her voice was hoarse and sultry as she clung to him. "Please."

His mouth curled a little at the corners as his pale fingers traced the side of her face. They slid down, past her shoulders, along her breasts and belly and finally traced the inside of her thigh before he brought her leg up to wrap around his waist at the same moment that he lifted her up. He held her there and kissed her as he slid himself in, the water making his entrance harsher then usual.

She gasped as he entered her and he felt her nails biting into his shoulders as she moved with him. "Harder," she said into his ear. He obliged and used her breathing as his guide, harsher now, passion robbing her of words but then she was speaking with her body.

He was panting against her shoulder, his hips thrusting into her with little rhythm besides what her body dictated to him. Keeping her between the heat of his body and the cool tile pressed into her back.

She shuddered as she climaxed, her muscles tightening on him, pulling him in even deeper, her nails biting into his back, her heart pounding her breath hot against the side of his face. She was beyond thought, all need.

"Oh god!" He bit out at the feel of her going, being dragged over the edge with her. He barely had the faculty left to keep them upright as his muscles spasmed, but he managed, holding her tight against him, his face buried in her neck.

She clung to him tightly until his spasms eased and then stopped. He could hear, eventually, a low satisfied chuckle coming from her. She turned his face around and kissed his lips tenderly. Then quite ruined it saying, "I think we're running out of hot water."

He smirked. "Well that explains the chill."

"Come on, let's go to bed," she said, turning off the water and tossing a towel at him.

Methos caught it deftly and followed, spending most of the time drying his hair while the rest of his body was left to more natural means of drying off. "I have a question." He said, a muffled version of his voice coming from underneath the towel.

She grabbed a part of the towel and pulled him down onto the bed on top of her. When he'd figured out which way was up she replied, "Which question is that?"

"Tonight wasn't the first time you've had a man at you mercy before, is it? Go on, tell me. How many young, helpless boys have you controlled before me?" He asked charmingly, the palm of his hand ghosting over her breast.

"Young helpless boys like you? Oh, a few. But my wiles are out of practice. I need to work on them. Hone my skills at seduction. The art is lost without constant practice."

Methos sighed. "Well I'm all for practice."

She laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

Methos brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, searching her eyes. "Will you tell me truthfully if it still hurts?" He asked. "I don't want you bottling this pain when you don't have to."

She met his eyes and nodded. "I'm fine though. So don't worry about me."

He smiled weakly. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way."

"How does it work for you?" she asked, her voice making clear she really wanted to understand.

"I'll always worry." He said. "If you come home tired or 'fine', or when you tell me what I am or how I act doesn't bother you. Till the day I can actually look inside you and make sure you're telling the truth, I'm always going to worry."

"Methos, I'm not going to tell you something that isn't true. What you are doesn't bother me. How you act, well, you've had a very long life to grow into that, and I'm not the sort of woman who falls for a guy then expects him to change for her. Then you wouldn't be the guy who intrigued me and moved me in the first place.

"As for you looking inside of me to be sure I'm telling you the truth, if there was a way to do that, I'd let you."

"You..." But he stopped. Instead of speaking he laid his head against her breast, feeling each time she breathed. Listening to the beat of her heart, trying not to count the beats.

She combed his hair with her fingers, content and relaxed.

His eyes closed. "It takes me five centuries, I want to tell you so much and yet you end up being the one girl who leaves me ridculously speechless sometimes. I really hate irony." He mumbled.

"Hush," she whispered. "It's because I don't really need to hear it."

----

P.S. Reviews, as ever, make us deliriously happy people...and immortals. I didn't forget about them.


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